Off Course
by stayathomemum
Summary: This story's rating has been changed to M. Season 5 is interrupted by the arrival of a new client in Angela Bower's life. Tony desperately tries to return things to normal, but can he be triumphant?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Yes, yes, I KNOW that I have to finish Family, but I'm completely stuck. In the interim, I thought I'd loosen up my keyboard with this. Takes place in Season 5, a few weeks after "A Spirited Christmas". The touch of supernatural teased my curiosity. **_

_**Chapter One**_

_**Tuesday**_

That particular Tuesday morning, nothing was amiss. Tony made breakfast for the kids, juice and coffee for Angela and headed out to his morning class. Angela and Mona drove themselves to the train station and took the train into Manhattan, ready to tackle a busy day at the office. The kids trudged unwillingly to their separate schools; Sam to high school and Jonathan to his new Junior High. All was as it always was and everything ran smoothly, the expected exits and entrances observed and obeyed.

The day itself plodded on in a predictable fashion, not unlike the tiny gears inside a well-made Swiss watch. The members of the Bower/Micelli clan went about their routines, strong habits nudging out a deeper awareness of their surroundings. It is the way people function when they do the same thing day in and day out. Mona made her midday escape from the office, leaving her daughter to man the phones in addition to the heavy workload she already had. This happened on a regular basis and was not worth a raised eyebrow or special mention.

At about five o'clock in the afternoon, Angela phoned home to tell Tony that she'd be late for dinner and to please not wait for her. He gave her the usual admonishment before hanging up the phone and serving dinner to the kids and the truant Mona. Tony made a snide remark to Mona about ditching Angela at the office. Mona's standard comeback was a joke at poor workhorse Angela's expense and a quip about her own need for freedom. The kids rolled their eyes and wolfed down their dinners before complaining about homework. Some sentences were spewed out verbatim and could have been cut and pasted from previous evenings. These players in their little sitcomish slice of life performed their roles commendably, unoriginally, and with complete unawareness.

At nine o'clock that evening, Tony expected Angela to return home at any moment. He sat on the sofa, his head reflexively inclined toward the front door, waiting for the sound of her key in the lock. Silence. At about half past nine, he put down his textbook and peered out the front window to check for her arrival. She'd be arriving in a cab, since Mona had borrowed her daughter's Jaguar to return from the train station. From the window, Tony spied only the shrubbery, empty lawn and driveway. He sat back down on the sofa, his left leg bouncing up and down to the anxious rhythm of his nerves. By ten o'clock, he could no longer read his textbook. The kids had turned in for the night and Tony was stifling fatigue along with worry. He phoned The Bower Agency but the answering machine was already switched on for the night.

Tony's concern was slowly turning to worry. When Angela had phoned earlier to say she'd be late for dinner, she hadn't mentioned staying out this late and besides it was a weeknight. The leg bouncing gave way to floor treading, which then evolved into 'caged-lion-like-pacing', from the front door to the kitchen door and back. Then back into the kitchen to check the back window for her arrival, then over to the front window. By twenty to midnight, Tony was in full-blown panic mode.

He saw the beam of headlights shining through the window before hearing the unfamiliar car's quiet engine. Tony threw open the front door in welcome and stepped onto the porch to greet Angela. He peered more closely at the arriving taxi and took a step back when a strange man exited on one side and stepped around to the other. He opened the door and proffered his hand to the passenger inside. Tony squinted in the darkness. A woman's long, shapely legs emerged first, then her hand reaching out to the man's. The rest of her followed, slowly. Angela. The street light illuminated her bright hair, then hit her full in the face. She winced.

"Angela?" Tony asked. So many questions remained unasked in that one word.

"Sorry I'm late," she said to him. She turned to her companion and smiled. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Duro."

"Paolo," the man corrected. He released her hand and gave her a short bow.

"Yes, of course, Paolo." Angela teetered on her high heels and returned his bow, prompting Tony to wonder who the hell was this guy that Angela was bowing down to him.

The question caught in his throat, but before Tony could pose it, Paolo had returned to his cab. It flickered its headlights and slowly rolled down the driveway. Tony gaped after the car, then turned around to gape at Angela's retreating back. He followed her into the house.

"Angela, who was that guy?" he blurted out.

She kicked off her shoes and headed into the kitchen. He followed her. "Tony, that was Paolo Duro. _The_ Paolo Duro!" she said as though her answer was self-explanatory.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" he asked. He poured her a glass of water and grabbed her saved supper out of the fridge.

"Oh, I'm not hungry. Paolo invited me to dinner."

Tony paused mid-step between the fridge and the microwave. "He took you out?"

"Yes! Tony, this is so exciting. You won't believe how it all happened." She spun on her toes and almost slipped across the linoleum. "Tony, I just landed him tonight!"

"What!?" Sparks of outrage shot out of his nostrils. Fortunately these were invisible. The thought of Angela _landing _any man made him want to tear said man from stem to stern.

"I landed the Paolo Duro account. This is really going to put my agency on the map, internationally. I can't believe my luck. And all because Mother skipped out of work early today," she said, unaware that Tony wasn't following her.

"Huh?"

"If Mother hadn't left work early, I wouldn't have had to look for a cab outside the train station. It was so busy and I couldn't find one. Then he appeared."

"Paolo."

"Yes. He offered me a ride in his cab. I recognized him, of course."

"You're gonna have to fill me in. Excuse my ignorance, but I have no idea who this Paolo Duro is."

"Tony, he's the owner of _**Duro Maio**_. You know, bathing suits, beach cover ups, sunscreens and accessories. That huge company from Brazil. They've been trying to make inroads in the American market for quite some time now, but their daring designs haven't exactly resonated with prudish Americans. Not yet, anyway."

"Not yet?"

"I introduced myself to him in the taxi—told him all about The Bower Agency. His disappointing foray into the American market has been all over _Business News_; the ad agencies have been hounding him. And to think, I ended up in his cab today! Must be fate, Tony. It must be."

"What, and he agreed to use your agency? Just like that, after a cab ride? What about all the other agencies?" he pressed.

"Not just a cab ride. He showed me his American offices, then invited me to _La Fleur_ for an impromptu business dinner. Paolo couldn't get enough of my ideas. As for the other agencies, he found them all cookie-cutter and impersonal. He liked my ideas, Tony. I… I never thought I'd get an international campaign so soon. I just can't believe it. You know what this means, don't you?"

Tony shook his head, so she continued in a whirlwind of excitement, babbling about international markets, making _**Duro Maio**_ a household name in the U.S. and how The Bower Agency would be taking on new challenges and expanding its horizons. Tony tuned out when she began spewing statistics and monetary forecasts. He was humbled by the glow on her face, and the successful future she envisioned for her agency. He was happy but also sad and didn't know why.

"That's great, Angela. That's really terrific." Tony forced a smile and patted Angela's shoulder to bring her back to earth.

"It really is. You know, Tony, you shouldn't have waited up. Don't you have an early class tomorrow? It's late."

"Yeah, it's late alright. I'm gonna head up to bed then. Good night," he said. He stopped in the doorway, before exiting the kitchen and turned to look at her one last time. He admired the slope of her elegant neck and the unconsciously feminine movements when she stretched and ran her hands through her hair. She shed her blazer and with it, her professional ad exec persona. She looked up at him in surprise.

"What is it, Tony? Did you forget something?" she asked him in her 'at home' voice. He preferred hearing her like this, her speech a few notes higher and lighter than her working voice. While he appreciated the confidence in the latter, it also intimidated him. The higher, sweeter tones she used at home appealed to the protector in him, and right now he was feeling particularly protective of her.

"No, uh, I just wanted to wish you good night. And, um, congratulations on your new account. You did good, Ang." His lips raised in a half smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Good night, Tony. Again." Angela picked up her blazer and switched off the kitchen light. She hummed a soft tune to herself and smiled. Paolo Duro was a charming and savvy businessman. She'd never had a client from Brazil before. His mannerisms were so different than what she was accustomed to. This was a change, a big one and Angela was going to ensure that it be successful.

Tony closed his bedroom door and heard Angela's close a few moments later. She was at home and safe for now. But his spirit was perturbed nonetheless. He'd had this same strange feeling of cosmic confusion over Christmas a few weeks back when the family had visited Mona's brother, Archie. He'd felt like a puppet, or a character in a play, being fed his lines. And now … well now Tony felt his entire world make a dizzying sharp turn, rejecting its previous trajectory. He fell into a shallow, troubled sleep, Paolo Duro's steely eyes shining menacingly in his dreams. Images flashed before his eyes: tie-dyed T-shirts, Angela punching a stand-up comedian, then even more nonsensical, a sensual picture of Mona donning the cover of a magazine, himself singing with Frank Sinatra, Jonathan kissing a tall girl, and Samantha being drunk. The images whirled in his twilight, teasing him with their near existence. Tony reached out to grab the one of Angela punching a man. He intuitively knew that this was his fault. He put out his hands and the images dissolved. They would never exist now. For the arrival of Paolo Duro in Angela Bower's life had just taken them all off course.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Wednesday**

"Paolo Duro," Tony muttered under his breath. He was beating the eggs with more ferocity than usual that morning. Not sleeping the night before wasn't helping his mood one bit. Other than fatigue related grumpiness, he continued to have the impression of something being amiss. He felt it in the pit of his gut but could not name the sensation, nor its cause, except that it had something to do with Paolo Duro, Angela's new Brazilian client. Tony had barely glimpsed him on the driveway, yet the preternatural implications of that brief meeting vibrated within his unconscious awareness. The disturbing and vivid imagery from his dreams followed him, hanging over his head like a dark storm cloud.

"Good morning." Angela sauntered into the kitchen with too much grace and poise so early in the morning. Tony grumbled in reply.

"I put out your juice and coffee Angela," he said without looking at her.

"You know, I think I'm going to have some of those eggs you're making," she replied.

Tony turned around to look at her. Angela never ate eggs on a weekday morning. Ever. Sometimes she nibbled on a piece of toast, or indulged in the occasional 'Air Jemima', but the kids' scrambled eggs? No. "You … you're gonna have some of _these_ eggs?" he asked her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"If that's alright with you," she replied, unsure now. Angela had to remind herself that she was in her own kitchen after all, and that said eggs had been purchased with her money by her employee, who at the moment was holding her egg whisk up in the air, unaware that mucous-y drippings were falling onto his jeans and shoes.

"Tony, the whisk is dripping on you," she cried out in alarm. He tossed the whisk back into the bowl and turned his back to her, beating the eggs even harder. He poured the egg mixture onto the already heated frying pan and took deep breaths to steady himself. 'This is no big deal—so what if Angela wants eggs?' he told himself. 'Relax Micelli.' Tony ignored the tremor than crept through his shoulders and divided the eggs into three plates. He'd give Angela his own portion.

"Hungry this morning?" he asked with forced nonchalance.

"I guess I am. So much to do today. Paolo is coming by the agency this morning to meet Jack and discuss his campaign," she said. Her eyes were bright with anticipation and she thrummed her toe against the leg of the table.

"Seeing him again so soon?"

"Well yes, he is my new account after all. We didn't cover half of what I wanted to in the cab or over dinner last night. This account is huge, Tony! The biggest that The Bower Agency has landed up until now, and international to boot!"

"That's great, Angela, just great. I'm, er, really proud of you." The words felt like nettles on his tongue.

"Tony, are you alright? You seem a bit … I don't know … unlike yourself this morning."

"I didn't sleep so great last night. Had some really weird dreams too." Tony poured himself some coffee and sat beside her at the kitchen table, something he never did in the mornings. He usually wolfed down food while he prepared it, never actually sitting down to breakfast.

"Oh, what kind of dreams?" Angela took a bite of her scrambled eggs and chased it down with coffee.

"I dreamt, ha ha, that I got to sing with Frank Sinatra," he said.

"That sounds like a dream come true for you," she said with a smile. "Not the kind of dream to give you a poor night's sleep."

"It wasn't just that. My dreams were so vivid—I mean I could see them, Angela. I dreamt that you punched out some performer. You were so angry with him."

"As if I would ever do that, Tony! It wasn't Frank Sinatra, I hope."

"No, he looked like a stand-up comedian. Then, Mona was on the cover of a magazine and Samantha was drunk and …"Tony stopped mid-sentence and looked up at Angela. She had a quizzical expression on her face. "Never mind, it was just a bunch of crazy dreams," he finished.

"They do sound a bit strange, but dreams tend to be weird like that." Angela wiped her mouth and carried her cup and plate to the kitchen counter. "I've got to get Mother, she's late. Lots to do today with Paolo's visit. I hope he doesn't find The Bower Agency too small to support his business needs. I need to project an aura of success."

"Yeah well, you still have that expresso machine, don't you?" he teased her. Tony desperately wanted to lighten the mood. The oppressive dark cloud of his dreams was still tethered to him.

"I do. Please kiss the kids goodbye for me; I can't wait for them to come downstairs. I'll see you tonight. Bye." Angela swept out the door in a flurry of energetic haste.

"Bye Angela."

**Thursday**

"Tony, could you please set an extra place at the table tonight?" Angela was calling Tony from the office late Thursday afternoon.

"Oh, for who?" he asked, though he knew.

"Paolo. We have a lot of work to do and he wants meet my family. Hope it's not much trouble on such short notice."

"No, no trouble at all," Tony replied, clenching the receiver in his fist. "There's plenty of food. I'm making lasagne."

"Thank you, Tony. You're the best. I can always count on you at the last minute."

Tony wanted to reply but Angela had already hung up. He sighed in frustration and tackled dinner. Angela brought clients home regularly and Tony was accustomed to preparing elaborate dishes to impress. He usually received more than two hours of notice though. For the rest of the afternoon, Tony chopped, sautéed, stirred, prepared and baked. He made appetizers from scratch, ran to the liquor store for a bottle of good red while the lasagne was baking and cleaned up the mess he'd just made in the kitchen. He was sweating and his T-shirt was splattered with an assortment of food stains when he heard Angela's key in the front door.

"And this is my home," he heard Angela say from his vantage point behind the kitchen door. She was holding out her right arm as though demonstrating a potential product.

Tony grabbed at his sweaty, stained T-shirt and sighed. He studied Paolo Duro; the man's dark eyes scanned the living room, eyeing every piece of furniture as though it were beneath him, while spewing shallow compliments. Slush and mud footprints followed his gleaming black shoes to the sofa. He sat, taking up two spaces. Tony wanted to strangle him, for he'd just vacuumed and mopped the floor that morning.

"Tony? I'm home! Tony?" Angela called out.

Tony did what was expected of him. He threw on an apron to hide the worst of the food stains, piled a silver tray with hors d'oeuvres and presented them to his boss and her guest. "I just decanted a bottle of red and it's breathin' in the kitchen," he said. "In the meantime, could I prepare you both some drinks? Martinis perhaps?"

Paolo stared at Tony, confusion evident in his onyx eyes. "Hello Mr. Bower. My name is Paolo Duro. It's a pleasure to meet you." Paolo stood, pulling himself up to his full height of six foot four. He stuck out his hand but Tony was holding the appetizer tray and could only nod.

"My name is Tony Micelli. I work for Angela, Mr. Duro."

"Yes Paolo meet Tony. Tony meet Paolo," Angela stated, somewhat breathless. It wasn't the first time that Tony had been mistaken for her husband. She purposefully did not introduce him as her housekeeper because her gut told her not to. "Please, have an appetizer. They look wonderful." Changing the subject seemed like a good idea now.

"Do you work at the Bower Agency, Tony?" Paolo pressed. He popped an hors d'oeuvre into his mouth and chewed it noisily.

"Uh no, no he doesn't," Angela answered.

"I'm Angela's housekeeper." The words were a challenge, casually flung over the tray of bacon-wrapped-dates, stuffed mushrooms and blue cheese tartlets.

Paolo began coughing, his stuffed mushroom catching in his throat. "You are the maid?" He sputtered out between coughs.

"That's right, I'm the … maid." Tony wanted to smirk. Angela's new client was clearly shocked.

"Ha, ha, we don't call him that, Paolo," Angela cut in. "Tony is so much more than a housekeeper." She looked at Tony fondly and smiled.

"I see," said Paolo, clearing his throat. He took a step away from Angela and stared down his beakish nose at her. "Obviously there is much I need to learn about American customs."

Angela froze. She knew what Paolo was thinking and she wanted to dispel any erroneous notions he might have about Tony's role in her home but something in his closed off expression gave her pause.

Instead she asked, "Tony, where are the children?"

"Upstairs. Yo, Samantha, Jonathan. Dinner's ready!" he shouted up the staircase.

"Children?" Paolo digested the new piece of information. "You have children together with your maid?"

"No, no, of course not," Angela sputtered. "We each have a child from a previous marriage." As Angela was talking, the children materialized on the staircase.

"Children, this is Mr. Paolo Duro, my new client. He's from Brazil. Paolo, this is my son Jonathan and this is Tony's daughter, Samantha."

Paolo nodded at Jonathan and gaped at Sam. "You are very beautiful," he told her then gave her a small bow.

Samantha blushed and awkwardly bowed back. Tony blanched. The way Paolo was staring at his sixteen-year-old daughter made his stomach churn.

"Dinner's ready," Tony repeated. "This way Mr. Duro." Tony stood between his daughter and Paolo, blocking the man's view of Sam. He opened the dining room door and ushered everybody in.

Throughout dinner, Paolo regaled the family with high tales of his adventures in Rio, his success, wealth and cleverness. Angela and Samantha were hanging on his every word, and Paolo directed all of his attention to them. He ignored Jonathan, and only spoke to Tony when he wanted his glass of wine refilled.

"Rio sounds so amazing," said Sam, eyes dreamy. "The beaches, the sunshine, and that Carnival you were telling us about! I'll bet that's a lot of fun."

"Brazil is the best country in the world," declared Paolo. "Angela will have to tell you all about it when she returns."

"What?" Tony gasped.

"Oh, oh yes, I was going to tell you all tonight," Angela began. "Paolo has invited me to tour his Brazilian offices next week. The Carnival will be on, and I want to use it as part of my campaign. We're going to cross into the U.S. market with a 'taste of Brazil' and promote the bathing suits with the colour, beat and spectacle of the Carnival. _Duro Maio_ will evoke beaches in Rio, glamour, sunshine and …"

"Raw sexuality," Paolo finished for her. He turned his ardent gaze toward her and raised his glass of refilled wine. "I am very happy that asked you to share my taxi. It was fate, Bela."

Tony shuddered and accidentally knocked over his wine glass. The harsh red stains stood out starkly on the white tablecloth. A wave of nausea hit Tony in the gut and he staggered back. He couldn't let Angela go to Brazil alone with Paolo—he felt it in the deepest recesses of his being.

"Ya know, Ang," he said as casually as he could. "Spring break is next week. I, uh, could really use a few days on the beach. Mind if I tag along?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

They flew to Rio on Paolo's private jet. Tony had managed to wrangle himself an invitation, much to Paolo's dismay. The fact that Angela's business trip coincided with Ridgemont's Winter Break was a coincidence too perfect to pass up. Tony really did need some R&amp;R, but more importantly, he wanted to keep an eye on his best friend. There had been some finagling where the children were concerned. Tony and Angela had never been away at the same time, and Angela was concerned about Mona's supervisory skills. Tony would not budge—he knew that his sixteen year old daughter was quite capable of getting herself to school and back without too much ado. As for thirteen year old Jonathan, he was prematurely responsible, a young fogey. The kid took a briefcase to school for god sakes. Tony slammed Angela's concerns that her mother wouldn't be a productive employee during their absence by reminding Angela that Mona was never a productive employee anyway. Having used every trick in the book, (solid arguments, prompting the children to promise to be on their best behaviour, citing schoolwork stress) he seemed to be making some headway. What swayed Angela in the end, was a simple declaration of friendship. Tony told her that he wanted to spend some time with his best friend, and if he could soak up a few rays at the same time, then so be it. Angela's argumentative armor had caved beneath Tony's beseeching brown eyes and she'd acquiesced with a slight nod of her head and a shy smile directed to the floor. In his relief, Tony had kissed her cheek, surprising both of them. He would never forget the heat of her flushed cheek beneath his lips and the startled little gasp that had caught in the back of her throat.

Now, high up in the air, Tony kept to himself in a quiet corner of the jet. Angela and Paolo were looking at files together, even on this short flight. Tony wondered why they couldn't simply wait until they landed, but he knew that Angela's restless energy and creative drive could not be silenced, especially when she was practically leaping out of skin about their destination. Neither she nor Tony had ever been to Brazil. The most exotic place he'd ever been to was Mexico a couple of years earlier, when the entire family had gone. Prior to meeting Angela, Tony hadn't even left American soil.

He waved the stewardess over and asked for another drink. The sight of Paolo's dark head hanging over Angela's slight frame made Tony uneasy. Everything about the _Duro Maio_ campaign made him uneasy. Tony readily acknowledged to himself that he'd overreacted when Angela had hired Jack a few months earlier. It embarrassed him to think that he'd had any reason for such intense jealousy. Angela and Jack? As if. He shook his head and took another sip of his sherry. With Paolo Duro, it wasn't jealousy per se. It had started with those disturbing dreams on the night he'd first seen the new client on the driveway. Everything about Paolo screamed danger to Tony, yet there was no concrete evidence to back him up, other than his one leering glance at Samantha. Paolo was a well-mannered and considerate client. He didn't overwork Angela—she dove into the work headfirst. He wasn't terribly demanding and seemed to genuinely appreciate her ideas. He had been nothing but complimentary on Tony's cooking, though politely baffled by Tony's title of 'maid' and his oddly close relationship to Angela. Upon learning that Tony would be joining them in Brazil, he'd been unable to hide his surprise. His curled fingers and deep pout had hinted at his consternation concerning this unexpected guest but he'd remained polite about it.

"Please fasten your seatbelts," the captain commanded them over the small loudspeaker. "We'll be landing momentarily." Angela returned to her seat beside Tony's and dutifully sat down. The stewardess piled the _Duro Maio_ papers and tidied them into a neat pile in the overhead bin. Paolo ignored the captain and chose this time to use the restroom, earning him an irate glance from the stewardess, but no admonishment.

"This is so exciting," Angela said. She leaned over Tony to look through the window. "Oh my god, there it is!" she squealed in delight.

Tony followed her eyes and smiled. _Christ the Redeemer_ was welcoming them to Rio, his arms wide and inviting. A low cloud circled the statue's head adding to its mystical majesty.

"Whoa, look at the size of that statue. It's the biggest Jesus I've ever seen," Tony gasped. "Looks like He could pluck this airplane outta the sky."

"Amazing. And the beach. Oh my goodness, look at that water, Tony!" The large expanse of blue water shimmered and sparkled in the sun, lapping at the smooth white sand.

Tony looked on approvingly. "Our hotel is right on Copacabana Beach, Angela. I hope you'll take some time to have an actual vacation while we're here, and not work all the time."

"Of course she's going to have a vacation," Paolo announced as he exited the bathroom and returned to his seat. "We're in Brazil now!" He turned his obsidian-like eyes toward Angela and studied her. "You'll be my guest," he said.

"Um, thank you," she replied. Wasn't this already implied, she wondered. The way Paolo was staring at her made her squirm in her leather seat. "You'll have to give me the grand tour of your offices," she said.

"But of course. I would also like you to be my personal guest, Angela." Paolo focused his whole gaze on Angela. He did not include Tony in his invitation.

"Your personal guest?" she asked, unable to tear herself away from the intensity of his stare. Her dark eyes met his darker ones and widened in apprehension. Tony's hand came to rest on the small of her back and stayed there, solid and warm.

"Yes. My house overlooks this magnificent beach." Paolo pointed to the view outside the window. "It is a large home and there is plenty of room for you there." Again, he ignored Tony.

Angela balked. There had been no previous mention of staying in Paolo's home. She and Tony had booked themselves an ocean view deluxe suite at the Marriott in Rio de Janeiro. The hotel was literally on Copacabana beach and also offered a complimentary breakfast. Angela loved complimentary hotel breakfasts—it was the only time she truly indulged in pancakes, sausages and little croissants. Besides, Tony had made such a fuss about specifically reserving a suite. Even though it meant that he'd be sleeping on a sofa bed in the suite's common area, while Angela had the bedroom to herself. Angela had suggested two separate rooms, next door to each other, but Tony had insisted on the shared suite and uncomfortable sofa bed. Right now, his hand pressed harder into her lower back and he muttered quietly while shaking his head. "We have the suite booked, Angela," he reminded her under his breath.

"My home office is where I keep most of my important documents," Paolo continued. "It will be comfortable and practical for you to lodge in my house. You'll have your own ensuite, of course, and _full maid service_." His eyes shifted to Tony, then back to Angela.

"I … I couldn't," Angela stammered. "Thank you very much for the offer, but I already made reservations at the Marriott. I can't cancel without giving them forty-eight hours' notice."

"Tony will stay at the Marriott," Paolo decided. "You only booked one suite." So Paolo had been listening.

"And you will stay with me, at my villa. I will be offended if you do not accept my hospitality." Paolo bowed his head and worked his features into a sad state of rejection. "Please come as my guest, Angela. My driver will take us to the offices in the mornings, then back to my home at noon for the big meal. Unlike you Americans, we Brazilians eat our most important meal at midday. Dora, my cook makes the best feijoada you will ever taste. If you stay at the hotel, you will miss these important meals and probably eat a sandwich at your desk." Angela's penchant for wolfing down sandwiches at her desk had horrified Paolo and he'd let her know it. "We must eat together, because that is when we can best discuss the campaign."

"Um, uh, well, that's …" Angela hummed and hawed, unsure how to respond.

"I am your client and I am making a request. I have brought you on my private jet and even allowed you to bring your _maid_ for his vacation. In the interest of my company and your advertising campaign, I must insist that you stay with me at my villa." Paolo's smile disappeared into a thin harsh line.

Angela nodded quietly. Her heart fluttered wildly but she knew that she had to acquiesce or risk losing the biggest account of her life.

"Thank you, Paolo. I'd be delighted to be your guest." She cast her eyes over to Tony and bit her lip. His jaw was clenched and the blood had drained from his face. All of his efforts to remain by Angela's side were for naught because Paolo Duro had managed to slither past Tony's defenses.

The plane continued its descent and landed with a sharp jolt. The shimmering ocean and white sands beckoned to them. Tony grasped Angela's fingertips and squeezed them. "I'll be nearby," he told her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Author's Note: A pareo is a rectangular piece of fabric and versatile beach cover up. The wearer can tie it into various styles. They usually come in wonderful designs and colours and can be made to look like full dresses, or simple sarongs. If you check Google Images, you'll see exactly what they look like and how they're worn. _

Tony was unable to reach Angela. Ensconced at his luxury suite at the Marriott, he was completely on his own. Upon landing at the private airport, Paolo's limousine had picked them up and dropped Tony off at his hotel, before continuing on with Paolo and Angela. Tony had stood there, hand held out, waiting for a slip of paper with Paolo's home number on it, but none had been forthcoming.

"How will I reach you?" he'd shouted after the slowly departing limo. Through the small slit in the window, Paolo had merely smiled and waved. Tony felt a deep instinctive fear as the limo disappeared from view. He and Angela were separated and he couldn't find her. With the concierge's assistance, he'd tried to locate Paolo's home phone number but the man was unlisted. He'd called the _Duro Maio_ offices repeatedly, but the receptionist wouldn't take any new messages from him. She already had quite a stack of little yellow papers on her desk, and her boss knew about them.

Instead of enjoying the magnificent beach at his doorstep, the vibrant city centre, or the culturally stylish cafes, Tony paced in his hotel room. For his first twenty-four hours in Rio, he ordered room service and waited by the phone, watching the carefree beachgoers from his ocean view window.

Conversely, Angela's first day was filled with non-stop activity. After arriving at Paolo's home (which was a seven thousand square foot mansion, complete with its own swimming pool, stables and detached servant's quarters), she was thrown head first into Brazilian culture, beginning with a meal that she couldn't begin to describe. The cook, Dora, placed plate after plate of unfamiliar, rich foods. A thick yellow fishy curry turned her stomach but Angela forced herself to take a few bites and say, "yum". This rich fare was followed by an even thicker black bean stew. Angela peered at the sausages floating in her dish and stoically speared one with her fork, then raised her eyebrows in pleased surprise. "This is delicious."

"It is Dora's specialty, her _fejoada_," Paolo explained. "It is the best dish in all of Brazil," he enthused while gulping down another generous spoonful. "Come on, eat, _comer, comer_," Paolo encouraged her. He piled some warm crusty bread on her plate and poured her more red wine.

"Aren't we going to be working this afternoon?" Angela had observed Paolo drink glass after glass of wine and she wondered at his ability to conduct business.

"Yes, of course," he replied, nonplussed. He pushed the full wine glass at her and nodded. "We will work in the home office today, so it is not too tiring for you. No_ praia_ for us today, but perhaps tomorrow?" Angela nodded, relieved that she wouldn't have to squeeze into her bathing suit after such an enormous meal. She wondered what Tony was up to and decided that she needed to call him at the hotel.

"May I use your phone please?" she asked her host.

"During our meal?" he asked, offended. "Your phone call can wait. First, you must have Dora's _Crème de Papaya _and a strong coffee. That will clear your palate and your head." Before Angela could protest, Dora was clearing dishes, reappearing with coffee and dessert. Her stout, thick body hovered over Angela like a benevolent warden, never letting her out of her chair. After what seemed like eons at the table, Dora declared the meal to be over and began clearing the table. Angela wondered if she was allowed to stand. She awaited instruction, so worried about upsetting her host again.

"Come to my home office; I have something to show you." Paolo pulled out Angela's chair and casually gripped his fingers round her upper arm to guide her. They crossed several magnificent rooms, including what appeared to be a ball room and a full sized library.

"Your home is impressive," she told him, unable to hide her awe.

"That is what I told you on the plane. And here is my home office. I possess the one and only key to this room. Few are invited inside." His dark eyes alight with a manic excitement, he gently pushed her through the thick mahogany door and shut it behind them, then locked the door from the inside. He was delighted by Angela's wide eyed surveillance of the large, expensively furnished room. He watched as her eyes swept over the Persian rugs, stained glass windows and antique French furniture. He felt a flutter of desire when her lips popped open in surprise. She'd noticed his _muro_, the wall of fame behind his desk. Paolo revelled in his own ego as Angela admired the wall of framed photos showcasing his most celebrated creations, worn by models on the local runaways of Brazil.

Paolo personally designed every bathing suit and cover up. He had started his career as a fashion designer some twenty-five years earlier when bikinis were gaining mainstream popularity. Paolo's bikinis were unlike anything the world had seen up to that point. His were not the industrial strength, belly button covering, pointy-breasted bikinis of _Beach Blanket Bingo._ No. Paolo had flare and imagination and he loved the female body. His bikinis plunged below the naval, cut high up the thigh and dipped low over secret mounds of female flesh. They showcased round behinds, lifted tired breasts, lengthened legs and dared the wearer to reveal more of herself than had yet been sanctioned by current norms and mores. Using unusual materials and colour combinations, the _Duro Maio_ stood out as a unique work of art. A woman who could both afford one and be brave enough to strut it on the beach, was referred to as a 'Duro Beleza'. The term had been coined by the locals and Paolo's success had directly benefitted from this free 'marketing campaign'. Realizing that money was to be made, serious money, Paolo had gone into business with a distant cousin, a man who ran a successful jewellery store. Their combined merchandise and brain power had resulted in a company whose new beach accessories attracted an entirely new clientele. Older, wealthy women were quite happy to purchase elegant cover-ups, and the semi-precious beach jewels to match. The bikinis, they would leave to their granddaughters, but the beach sandals, eminently practical beach bags and intricately designed pareos became the lifeblood of his company. Paolo's recent forays into the American market had been unsuccessful because he'd tried to modify his designs for the American woman. He'd second guessed himself and made changes to existing designs, reducing them to the likes found in the neon-lit, crowded bathing suit racks at Sears. Angela Bower had shown him the error of his ways, and while it hadn't been easy listening to a mere woman tell him what to do, he knew that it was the American woman's opinion that would help him realize his dreams. In the end, he'd chosen The Bower Agency because of the elegant owner at its helm. He'd never worked with women, beyond ordering Dora around the kitchen, or tapping into his ever growing secretarial pool. Paolo was by definition, a male chauvinist. Hiring Angela Bower went against his very nature. To him, women were intellectually inferior, weak, prone to emotional outbursts, and their place was in the kitchen and nursery. None of these prejudices was true about Angela Bower, however, and Paolo had to admit a certain attraction to the decisive independent blond. It caught him by surprise because both of his ex-wives and all of his former lovers had been voluptuous, old-fashioned girls with vacuous stares. He glanced over at his newly acquired worker and nodded appreciatively. She would do, yes she would do.

"I see you like my designs," he said.

"These photos are wonderful, Paolo. I especially love this deep blue cover up. The gold edging and tiny fish embroidered throughout remind me of a magnificent aquarium filled with goldfish."

"It is yours." Paolo crossed the room and pushed aside a large painting, revealing a safe. He opened it, shuffled through layers of material and pulled out the pareo that Angela had been admiring.

"Please, for you."

"For me?" Angela gasped. She watched as Paolo unwrapped the tissue paper surrounding the filament-like material. "But, it's one of your original creations." She took a step toward him and hesitated before the proffered item. "It must be worth a fortune. It's your original design! Do you have a copy?"

"No copies. This is an original. Is it your favourite from all the photos you see?"

"Well yes, but I was thinking that maybe we could use that design for our ad …"

Paolo cut her off. "I give it to you, Angela. It is a gift. You must accept it, and wear it. It belongs on a beautiful woman such as yourself."

Paolo handed her the pareo and bowed slightly. He smiled at Angela's confused pleasure. He loved catching her off guard, as he'd done on the airplane when he'd invited her to stay at his home. Seeing her man-maid's horrified expression had added to Paolo's pleasure, and leaving the bewildered man stranded at the Marriot without Angela had been the final coup. He'd almost burst out laughing, but of course had had to retain a semblance of professionalism in front of Angela Bower. Paolo wondered if Angela and her man-maid were lovers. The mere fact that this woman owned an advertising agency and had a man for a maid was a concept that Paolo had trouble getting his head around. And they were raising their children together? He didn't quite understand that either. Dora had children but they certainly didn't live inside the house. They stayed in the staff quarters, and he never saw them. If one of the impudent snot-nosed brats ever dared enter his home, there'd be hell to pay. Nothing about Angela Bower made sense, and it irked him. He smoothed his fingers over his thick mustache and pondered the enigma that she presented.

"Each pareo has a matching bikini," he told her. This he understood, outfitting women. He could already envision how the gold, orange and blue of his design would enhance the warm hue of her dark eyes and flatter her skin tone. And the high cut bikini briefs would make her long legs appear endless. He might not understand the workings of her quick and complex brain, but Paolo knew where he could begin to assert his control—over her body.

XXXX

Unable to stand the confines of his hotel room one moment longer, Tony headed outside, determined to find Angela, somehow. It was his second full day in Brazil and the lure of the deep blue ocean beckoned to him. He figured that a quick dip would clear his head, or at least quell the restless sensation of wanting to punch something. He found himself a spot on the soft white sand and spread out his beach towel. Within moments, a beach vendor was at his side offering to rent him a lawn chair. Tony shook his head, and the man walked away looking quite offended. Tony stood up and stretched. He berated himself for not enjoying the beach prior to now, realizing that it was a much more pleasant pastime than pacing beside his bed. His body felt restless and underused; Tony sprinted to the water's edge and ran in. He splashed about the cool water, letting the salt buoy him up. The ocean invigorated him and gave him new energy and determination to find Angela today. Tony ran back to his towel and was accosted by a second beach vendor, this one selling coconuts. Rather than brush him off, Tony gave the man a few coins and took the coconut, wanting to indulge in something the locals were doing. He'd noticed several other beachgoers drinking the coconut water.

"Bebida coco," the vendor said. "Drink it mister. Eees very good. Afterwards, eat the polpa, uh, pulp. Yes?"

Tony nodded and took a sip. It was delicious. He sat back down on his towel and observed the people around him. An impromptu game of beach volleyball was happening a few yards away, small children were happily digging in the sand with plastic sand toys, young men and women showed off their perfect bodies, flirting with each other in a timeless mating ritual, while athletes jogged along the beach, their darkly tanned muscles gleaming in the sun. He took another gulp of his coconut water, alone on his towel, and noticed a couple nearby. The man and woman were walking toward the water, hand in hand, giggling and teasing each other. A wave of loneliness engulfed him. He needed to find Angela right now.

XXXX

On Angela's second day, Paolo decided that they would visit his offices in the city first thing, then head over to the beach after lunch. Angela inwardly groaned because she wanted to swim before eating the heavy midday meal. Paolo did not notice her unease and proceeded with his plans. Before leaving for the office, Angela decided to call Tony at the Marriott. She used the phone in her bedroom and dialled the hotel's number. Instead of being connected, however, the phone emitted a strange beeping noise. She hung up the receiver and tried again. The same thing happened a second time. Angela headed out of her room to the kitchen, where she knew she'd find Dora.

"Excuse me Dora," she began. "I think the phone in my bedroom is broken. May I use this phone please?" Angela pointed to the kitchen phone.

"Why do you need the phone?" Dora asked her.

The question caught Angela off guard. "I'm trying to call my friend. He's at the Marriott," she explained, somewhat peeved that the cook needed to know her reasons.

"Did Mr. Duro give you the code?" Dora probed.

"Code? What code?"

"The code to make outside phone calls," Dora explained. "If you want to phone outside of the house, you must have the code."

"I don't know the code. Could you input it for me please? I need to call my fr …"

"Não. No code, no phone call for you." Dora turned her back to Angela and continued rolling dough.

"But, I traveled with him, and he doesn't have the number for this house. I need to contact him." Angela was beginning to feel the first pangs of worry.

"Please."

Dora turned around, brushed the flour off her apron and stuck out her chin. "If Mr. Duro has not given you the code, you cannot make a phone call. That is it. Do not ask me, I am the cook."

Angela's eyes widened at the trouble caused by her need to make one phone call. She opened her mouth to protest but closed it again under Dora's disapproving gaze. The two women stood in silent standoff, and when Paolo entered the kitchen, he could sense the tension between them.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked Angela. "We have a lot of work to do today."

"Good morning, Paolo. I was trying to make a phone call, but I don't have the code."

"A phone call, now?" he asked. "My driver is waiting to take us to the office. Your call will have to wait until we arrive there. We must leave now."

"But it would only take me two minutes," she tried.

"Não. My board of directors is waiting to meet you. We must go." Paolo gave her a small shove toward the door, blocking her access to the phone. Angela balked at the threshold, suddenly feeling vulnerable and very alone. She wanted Tony, and she wanted him now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The glass and steel skyscraper seemed not to belong. _Duro Maio_ occupied the top three floors of a massive office tower in the centre of Rio. Its immense height, width and American-style architecture dominated the landscape; the palm trees growing around its perimeter mere overgrown ferns struggling to reach the third floor. Angela maintained a constant vigilance over her surroundings, checking for exits and secluded telephones as Paolo led her through his vast office space. Unlike his home office, his business area was Spartan having only modern and practical furniture. As he escorted Angela to the board room for their meeting with the Board of Directors, she cast furtive glances at the employees, wondering why there were so few women. The women in Paolo's employ were all secretaries or receptionists, and all of the higher positions were occupied by men. It was therefore no surprise to her that by the time they wound their way through the grey corridors to the meeting room, she saw only men waiting around the oval desk. The lone woman in the room was there to take the minutes of the meetings, pour coffee, and hand out the folders. She called the men '_senhor_ so and so', while they referred to her by her given name, Ana.

Angela entered the room with trepidation, feeling like she didn't belong. Five sets of man eyes studied her every move. Paolo pulled a chair out for her and told her to sit down.

The first man to speak was about sixty years of age, sharp and regal in his elegant suit. "Why has _Senhor _Bower sent a secretary in his place?" He'd barely glanced at Angela, except to briefly check out her legs.

An almost imperceptible blush crept up Paolo's cheeks but quickly disappeared into his tanned skin. He would not abide judgement or questioning by his board members. "This is _Senhora_ Bower. She owns the Bower Agency." He said it with as much dignity as he could muster. He had not yet informed his colleagues that the Bower Agency was run by a woman.

"And you are a widow?" asked another man in confusion. "Your husband left you this agency? But who runs it now?"

Still, they did not understand and it baffled Angela, as though she'd time-travelled back to the fifties. "No, I am not a widow. The Bower Agency is mine. I founded it myself." She was tempted to add that even a _mere_ woman could own and operate a business but felt that her opening words had already pushed the envelope. The men were giving each other looks and Ana was staring at her in astonishment.

"Ahem, ahem," Paolo began. He needed to break through the furious whispers and disdainful looks being shot his way. He knew he'd made the right decision and needed to ensure that his men realized it too. Most importantly, he needed to remain in complete control of this meeting. Angela was his discovery and he wanted to expose her as a unique find before his Board of Directors, to show them that he'd found the pulse of the American woman and captured it. "That is right. I hired the Bower Agency because it is our best bet for successfully entering the North American market. Who buys our bathing suits? Esteban?"

Esteban's head shot up; he was the shy one and hated being called out. "_Meninas_?" he replied, unsure of himself.

"No, not _meninas_. We do not sell our bikinis and quality accessories to children," he spat out. "Our target market is women. American women." Paolo let his words sink in for a moment, augmenting the drama of his argument. "And what do I have here with me? Esteban?"

Poor Esteban stared into his coffee cup, wishing he could disappear into the dark, warm brew. "A woman?" he mumbled, keeping his eyes on his coffee.

"Yes, an _American_ woman. A woman who knows the market we are trying to enter. A woman who knows what other women are looking for. A woman who is well educated and intelligent, and very successful." Paolo bowed in Angela's direction, then turned to face his row of men. "Do not question my decisions. This is my company. I have chosen the Bower Agency because it has the best ideas for my campaign. Now, are you ready to hear them?"

Cowed and compliant, the men nodded and gave Angela their full attention. They still couldn't believe that a woman was telling them how it was going to be. Their prejudice was a layer of earwax between Angela's words and their ears, but as she continued to speak, they began to listen. Angela talked about her concept of using the Carnival to introduce _Duro Maio_ to the U.S. She explained how she wanted potential customers to associate Paolo's bikinis and pareos with the flamboyant, exotic and colourful costumes of Carnival. Each bathing suit would have a name and a distinct persona. The showy and daring bikinis would evoke the rhythm, culture and sensuality of Rio. "And we are in current negotiations with EMI Capitol to use copyrighted material, namely the refrain from Duran Duran's song _Rio_." The men gasped at the scope of her advertising campaign.

"Duran Duran?" Ana squealed. She was not to speak during these meetings and was quickly reprimanded.

"Yes Ana," Angela addressed her by name, showing her the respect she deserved. "It will cost a lot, but I can already visualize the ad. A woman dancing on the beach to the _Rio_ song chorus, wearing her _Duro maio_, and as she dances, she's joined by dancers from the Carnival. They dance behind her on the sand in full elaborate costume, then vanish as though she'd dreamt them. Pouf. The woman in the bikini remains on the sand alone, personifying the qualities of the Carnival. She's unique, proud, sexy and beautiful and she will be the face of _Duro Maio_."

* * *

"You impressed them _querida_," Paola told her when they were alone in his office. Paolo was pumped, his blood coursing through his veins like it had when he was young. Angela's speech had smashed unspoken rules about women's roles in his company but he didn't mind because he had a plan. She was his discovery, his treasure, and as such, her ideas belonged to him now. He cast his black eyes in her direction, admiring her long legs beneath the small table he'd set next to his desk for her.

"I suppose Duran Duran is quite impressive," she replied. Angela knew she'd made some headway with Paolo's Board of Chauvinists, yet still had a long way to go. They'd listened to her concepts but did not treat her as an equal. One silver haired gentleman had had the audacity to ask her out on a date. Fortunately Paolo had intervened. But looking back on the incident, Angela felt a certain foreboding for Paolo's scathing dressing-down of the older man reeked of a power play. The testosterone filled boardroom with its male posturing and lustful gazes intimidated her and became a sore spot. Angela didn't only feel like a member of the opposite sex, she felt like an alien.

"It wasn't Duran Duran," Paolo scoffed. "It was you. You impressed them. And with our campaign, we are going to impress potential customers. It will be successful, Angela. It will be huge, a one hundred million dollar account."

"A hundred million? But when you hired me, you said thirty million."

"And now I say one hundred million. I was being conservative. Have you forgotten how successful I am here in Brazil? I am an empire onto myself." Paolo came to stand before her and held out his hand. "My nickname is _o conquistador_ because I have taken over all of my competitors. I own them all, except for the ones I demolished." A small giggle of glee escaped him and he put his hand to his mouth like an old woman hiding bad teeth.

Angela continued to sit. She knew that Paolo had successfully manoeuvered many mergers over the years. She'd regularly read about him in _Business Weekly_, but the media spin almost always showcased him in a positive light. They called him brilliant and daring, and the mergers were supposedly agreed upon by the smaller companies he'd absorbed. She began to question those articles because it was clear to her that Paolo possessed a deep-seated need for control.

"When I want a thing, I take it," he added. He punctuated his statement with a longing gaze directed at Angela. His eyes lingered longer than was proper on her legs.

She sensed a peculiar shift in their working relationship and faltered before him. He stood above her, a soaring monument onto himself, hawkish nose in the air. The tiny worm of fear wrapped itself around her chest and squeezed.

"You demolished your competitors?" she whispered, aghast. Angela tucked her legs further beneath her tiny desk and wished she hadn't worn a pencil styled skirt. Sitting down hiked it well above her knees and she was keenly aware of Paolo's interest.

"_Sim_. Yes." A smug smile darkened his features. He targeted her delicate pale hand resting lightly on the desk and grasped it in his large tanned one. She looked down at the course black hairs on the back of his fingers and tried to extricate herself from his formidable grip.

"What are you doing?" she cried.

"Stand up," he commanded. "I take your hand, _minha senhora_. I want you to stand with me, beside me. Do you understand?" He pulled Angela up and out of her chair, never loosening his hold on her hand.

"Ok, I'm standing beside you," she said. She managed to slip her now sweaty palm out of his and wiped it on her skirt. She wanted to blast him, to tell him off but he interrupted her before she had the chance to do so.

"Yes, you are beside me. Angela, I have a proposal to make."

"What … what kind of proposal?" Angela forced her voice not to tremble. She had to play it cool and remind herself that this was now a one hundred million dollar account. If her client was into leg staring and hand holding, she needed to remain calm and roll with the punches.

"I want to buy the Bower Agency. It will exclusively create advertising campaigns for _Duro Maio,_ and will be under my direction. You will continue to be its Chief Executive Officer, of course." There, now Paolo could save face, merge a New York advertising agency into his vast company and simply turn it into a profitable department at his beck and call. Angela would work for him. The Board of Directors would respect him again.

"What? But it's not for sale! I'm not selling the Bower Agency." She looked him in the eye and shrank back for they gleamed maniacally. Angela couldn't tell where the pupil ended and the iris began; his eyes were two shiny black pits.

"Ah, but the Bower Agency is what I need," he said. His tone was calm. He grasped her left shoulder and whispered into her ear. "If you do not sell it to me, you will personally come to understand why they call me _o conquistador." _

* * *

The documents were delivered to Angela's bedroom late that evening. After she'd refused to dine with Paolo and holed herself up in her private quarters for hours, Dora brought her a tray with bread, cheese, wine, and Paolo's merger proposal. Angela pointedly ignored the papers, but their presence in her room was stifling. They seemed to be burning a hole in her pillow where she's deposited them in order to pretend not to pay attention to them.

After a fortifying glass of Portuguese red, Angela found her courage and scanned the document, starting with the handwritten note stuck to the front page. It read, "_Dear_ _querida, I am sorry if I have caused you offense. Please read the enclosed documents. I wish to propose a merger between my company and your agency. I want us to be partners because I respect you tremendously and know that together we can be even more successful. I want you by my side. You will be generously rewarded. P" _

Angela read every page, gasping at the sum that Paolo was offering her. It was at least double what the Bower Agency was even worth. She sat down and read more slowly now, outrage giving way to curiosity. His terms were exceedingly generous and she would also benefit from any future gains made by _Duro Maio_, as he was including shares of his own company in the compensation package. She picked up the phone to call her lawyer, then remembered that she didn't have the outside line code. Drat. Angela could have kicked herself for it was occurring to her that she'd forgotten to phone Tony from Paolo's downtown office. She'd been meaning to after the meeting and had even spied the pay phone she planned to use. Unfortunately, after being distracted by Paolo's whispered threats, the pay phone had slipped her mind.

She needed to find Paolo right now and demand the code from him. She was going to call her lawyer, then Tony and then her mother and son. She strode out of her room with determined purpose, but wound up wandered aimlessly about the upper level, unsure where to go. She hesitated on the landing and called out, "Paolo?" Her voice was too quiet in the large, empty villa. "Paolo? Dora?" she said a bit more loudly this time.

Dora appeared as though conjured out of thin air. "Yes Missus Bower. How may I help you?" her English was flawless.

"Oh you're still here, good. Dora, where is Mr. Duro?"

"He is in the pool. It is time for his evening swim. He will exit the pool at midnight and go straight to bed."

"The pool? I need to talk to him right now. I'm just going to head over there …"Dora held out her hand and sputtered something in Portuguese.

"I'm sorry? What was that, Dora?"

"It was nothing. I must go now." Dora shrugged and headed to the servant quarters next door where her two teenagers waited.

Puzzled by the cook's reaction, Angela hugged the documents against her chest and slipped outside toward the swimming pool. The Olympic sized pool resided at a higher elevation than the rest of the garden. From this vantage point, the swimmer had an excellent view of the ocean and the impression that he could swim right out of the chlorinated water and land in the salty waves below. Angela watched Paolo swim lengths in the semi darkness, his trim long body perfectly executing a textbook crawl. The outdoor light didn't produce much in way of illumination but she could see flashes of him as he raised his head to the side for breath.

"Ahem!" she tried to get his attention by waving at him but he didn't see her. After several minutes of this, Angela plopped herself down on a lounging chair and waited for him to finish his exercise regimen. She closed her eyes and tried to find peace but it eluded her. If she told Paolo no to his merger, he would most likely withdraw his entire account and take it elsewhere. Angela would lose the largest account of her career since founding the Bower Agency and lose her foot in the international market as well. Conversely, if she agreed to the merger, the Bower Agency would become a subsidiary of Paolo's larger company. While the drafted proposal did contain a clause allowing her to keep her existing clients, Paolo wanted her to refrain from attracting new clientele unless he specifically approved it. She was also to devote the majority of her time and resources to his products and only work on other approved clients as he saw fit. Then again, the amount of money he was offering her was much more than what she'd expected. Angela was truly torn. During times like this, she counted on Tony to be her sounding board. More than once, he'd helped steer her in the right direction.

"Angela!" Paolo interrupted her thoughts. He was treading water in the pool, suddenly aware of her presence.

"Beautiful night for a swim," she said. "I've been reading your merger proposal and there are some things we need to discuss."

"Such as?" Paolo began swimming toward the shallow end.

"Why don't we wait until you're out and dried off? In the meantime, I must phone my lawyer. What is the code for dialling an outside line?" She planned on calling Tony too.

"At midnight? It is doubtful that your lawyer will be taking your call," he said.

"Right, but if you could still give me the code, then I can call him first thing in the morning," she tried.

"This can wait until tomorrow morning. I would also be happy to speak with your lawyer." Paolo stood in waist deep water as though deliberating something. He nodded to himself, smirked, then exited the pool and stood before Angela. "Could you please hand me my towel? You are sitting on it."

"Oh sorry … here you … oh my … oh, oh, Paolo!" Angela threw the towel at him and averted her eyes for he was completely nude. Initially, in the semi-darkness, she thought he was wearing trunks but said trunks were in fact an abundant forest of pubic hair.

"Do not be embarrassed on my account. I always swim nude. It is fine." Paolo became turned on by Angela's ingénue reaction. "You may look at me now."

Angela turned around and slowly opened her eyes then screwed them tightly shut again. "You're still naked," she gasped.

"Indeed. As you were saying before, it is a beautiful night for a swim. I was hoping you could join me."

* * *

Tony was beside himself. He'd called Mona but she hadn't heard from Angela either. Fortunately, she had a file with client information on Paolo Duro and gave Tony everything she had. There was one Brazilian address labeled 'home office'. It was late now but Tony had every intention of taking a taxi to Paolo's 'home office' the next day. The gnawing sense of impending doom was growing hourly and he couldn't stop fretting about Angela. He felt that she was in danger and his sense of helplessness was driving him to the edge.

"I'm gonna find you tomorrow, Angela. I promise. I promise," he whispered to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Angela, please come out. I am sorry if I have caused you offense," Paolo called through her locked bedroom door, his tone as sweet and thick as icing on a cake, and as nauseating.

Angela paced beside her bed and anxiously threaded her fingers through her hair, wondering what to do next. She felt caged in her spacious room and didn't dare venture out, not when Paolo was breathing down her door. She still couldn't believe that Paolo had exposed himself to her, his calculated nonchalance masking something deeper, something vile. How badly she wanted to leave this luxury villa and find Tony. And yet she could not, for it was after midnight, her tormenter and jailer was at her doorstep and there was no way to call out of the house. Angela wanted to scream from both frustration and fear. Was any account worth this much trouble, she wondered.

Unable to stand the feeling of being trapped by a horny client, Angela decided to take matters into her own hands. Concluding that the element of surprise had its advantages (she herself was continuously caught off guard by Paolo's 'surprises'), she threw her bedroom door open with as much force as she could muster. The heavy wooden door frame slammed into Paolo's beakish nose, hard.

"I want to leave!"

"_Querida, querida_," he said, still in those sickening sweet tones that grated on Angela's nerves. "_Sinto muito_, I am very sorry. I only thought to give you use of my magnificent pool. I always swim in the nude because this is my very private place and I am accustomed to my own company."

"I know all about your _private places_, Paolo. And I'd like to leave, now! Please call me a taxi. I'm going to my room at the Marriott."

"Pft, the Marriott. Where you would share a suite with your man-maid?" Paolo blew air out of his mouth and harrumphed.

"With Tony, my friend," she corrected him.

"Yes, I understand that he is … your friend." Paolo brushed past her, knocking her somewhat off balance, both physically and psychologically. He sat on the edge of her bed and patted the spot next to him for her to join him.

"I'll stand," she said.

"I fear we have had a _mal-entendido_, um, a misunderstanding," he began, his accent mysteriously thickening now. "It could be the language barrier, eh?"

"I don't think language barriers have anything to do with what happened by the pool." Angela turned her back to him and threw clothes into her suitcase, not caring that they were rumpled. She took a deep breath and faced him anew. "I'm going to say this as simply as I can. I want to leave. Now. Is that clear enough for you?" She kept her head up high and didn't flinch from his menacing stare. "Now, Paolo, I mean it. I want to call a taxi, now."

He opened his mouth to protest but she interrupted him with her hand. "Now! You can't hold me here against my will. How can you expect to conduct business under these circumstances?" Angela appealed to their business relationship because she could feel herself losing ground. Paolo wasn't caving and he most definitely had the upper hand.

"I think you are overreacting," he told her. He furrowed his dark hairy eyebrows and stared her down. "I have given you a one hundred million dollar account and a partnership. And yet you would risk all that because I invited you to swim in my pool? Because I didn't wear a _maio_?" He shook his head and shot through her with a look that made her feel like a complete imbecile.

Angela froze, one hand grasping a pile of clothing, the other inside her suitcase shoving items aside. Her heart fluttered and a stab of doubt pierced its way into her gut. Was she overreacting to the pool incident?

Paolo noted her 'deer caught in headlights' expression and seized his chance. "My dear, you are tired and it is late. If you leave now, you will be disturbing your friend while he sleeps."

"I don't think Tony would mind …" she began, but Paolo cut her off sharply.

"_I_ would mind, and _I_ am your client. We have an early morning tour of my factory followed by important meetings. It will be a busy day and you need to rest. Sleep now. I will not disturb you." His voice was mellow, reassuring. He took a watchful step toward her, then another when she didn't flinch. He knew he stood within her personal space but he didn't back down. This technique worked well when he wanted to get his way, especially with women. Paolo led with his face and completely invaded his target's space, owning it.

Angela was like a fly caught in a spider's web, paralyzed. She also felt judged by him for her reactions and was now heaping doubt and guilt upon herself for having risked such a huge account over what was probably only a misunderstanding. "I … I suppose I could sleep here tonight," she capitulated, not wanting to sound too eager, yet not wanting to alienate such an important client.

"Yes, that is good. I will leave you now and we will forget all about this _mal-entendido," _he said reassuringly. "I am sorry that you mistook my intentions," he added as an afterthought.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I guess I overreacted," she said.

Paolo gave her a short bow, walked out and closed the door behind him.

Angela collapsed onto the bed and cringed. "Did I just apologize to him?" she wondered aloud.

XXXXX

The day seemed to go on forever. Meeting after meeting with merchandisers, marketers, the silver-haired lothario from the Board of Directors, creative consultants and other important managers. The many unfamiliar faces became a mosaic of disjointed images in her mind and Angela would be hard pressed to remember anybody's name after the day's charged schedule.

Earlier that morning, she had also toured Paolo's factory and been shocked at how many workers were crammed in together, as well as the young ages of the seamstresses. The girls had been harried, sweaty and tired. Huge piles of beach cover-ups, as well as bathing suits, pareos and beach bags sprung into being from their nimble, scarred fingers. One girl who looked to be no more than fourteen and pregnant was clearly exhausted. She'd sat hunched over her sewing machine as though her back caused her pain and didn't even look up from her pile of garments when Paolo and Angela walked beside her.

"You appear to have more than a few teenaged girls in your employ," she'd commented as they'd walked along the factory aisles. She almost had to shout her words to be heard above the constant whirring of the sewing machines.

"Yes, they are young and strong. They have much energy for this demanding job," Paolo had replied nonplussed.

"Shouldn't these girls be in school?" she'd asked.

"That is not my business. I am in the business of designing and manufacturing beachwear. If they chose not to go to school, what concern is that of mine?"

"But you're their employer Paolo! They're only children, barely older than my son."

Paolo had stopped and looked down at her, then leaned in close and hissed, "They are poor, and I pay them wages so they can eat. Are we going to have another _mal-entendido_?"

"I … um, I only wanted to … uh, no." She'd stepped away from him and looked at her feet. Angela knew that if she merged the Bower Agency with _Duro Maio_, these exploited teenaged workers would sit on her conscience, heavy as stones in the river.

XXXX

Tony got up with a sense of purpose that morning. He was determined to find Angela and bring her back to the Marriott, possibly even back to Connecticut if they could manage an earlier flight. Deep within every fibre of his being, he knew that something was wrong. It wasn't like Angela not to contact him. The fact that she hadn't even called home was a red flag for Tony. A huge red flag. And right now, he felt like a raging bull.

He showed up at the office tower where _Duro Maio_ was located, bright and early with a coffee in hand and settled himself in the lobby. He scanned the mob of hurrying employees, searching for that one tall blonde but he did not see her. When the work crowd finally thinned, Tony took the elevator up to the _Duro Maio_ offices on the top floors.

"Excuse me," he said to the receptionist.

"Yes?" The immaculately groomed woman looked up at him in surprise. She wasn't accustomed to Americans, especially ones wearing jeans, showing up in her reception area.

"I'm looking for Angela Bower. She's visiting from the United States and is a personal guest of Paolo Duro's."

"_Senhora_ Bower? Ah _sim_. She is with_ Senhor_ Duro now. They are at his _fabrica."_

"Where's that? What's a _fabrica_? Is that where they make fabric or somethin'?"

"They make the things to wear … with fabric, _sim_."

Despite the language barrier, Tony managed to figure out where the factory was located and ordered a taxi. The factory was located just beyond the city borders. On the drive over, he passed through a slum area that made Harlem look fancy. Multicolored tenements cluttered the hillsides, competing for space. Tony was reminded of crooked Lego blocks arranged by a drunk. Scruffy looking children ran through the garbage-strewn street, playing with sticks while women in rags hung their laundry to dry and yelled after the children to mind them. It was utter chaos, sheer poverty and Tony couldn't believe how close they still were to the Marriott. He'd had no idea that this level of destitution lived at his hotel doorstep.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" he asked the taxi driver.

"Yes, we must drive through the favelas. The factory is a longer drive away," the cabbie explained.

"So much poverty," Tony said, mouth agape. He spied a group of teenaged boys running together, bare chested and apparently aimless.

"Some kids work at the Duro factory," the cabbie said. "Uh, favela girls cheap to hire."

"What?"

"Better factory than collecting garbage," said the cabbie, his expression grim. "At least they are safer inside."

Tony shook his head and wondered what Angela would think about hiring cheap child labor. Safer or not, she wouldn't approve of exploiting the poor, especially kids.

When they pulled into the factory's parking lot, Tony asked the cabbie to wait for him and went in search of Angela.

Another surprised receptionist gave him similar news. He'd missed Angela and Paolo once again. They had been there and already left only moments earlier. In hindsight, Tony wondered if the out-of-place limo he'd passed in the slums had in fact been Paolo's. Tony groaned in frustration for having missed Angela by mere minutes. He slumped into the back seat of his waiting cab and directed it to return. The cabbie gave him a confused look and asked, "This is about a woman?"

"Yeah, a woman. My best friend. I can't find her! She's with Paolo Duro, working with him, staying at his villa and she hasn't called me. Man, I'm worried and I need to see her for myself! I was hoping she'd be at the factory but I just missed her. She was there five minutes ago, arrggghhh."

"With _Senhor_ Duro? Oh." The cabbie looked at Tony with sympathy

"What do you mean, 'oh'?" Tony asked him.

"How shall I say? _Senhor_ Duro has a certain reputation. With women."

"Oh?" Tony's heart began to pound. "Tell me."

"He has had many, many, many women," the cabbie began. "Uh, last year he became enamored by one of his models. She worked for him and stayed at his villa."

"I'm listenin'. Go on," Tony urged him. He leaned forward and hugged the front seat's headrest.

"It is a very sad story. He became obsessed with the girl, took her everywhere with him. She became quite famous, even beyond Brazil. Maybe you heard of her in the U.S.? Her name was Lucia Corado."

"Was?"

"She's dead now. That is why my story is sad. Lucia was going to model in New York—she was discovered in the _Duro Maio_ catalogue."

"Well … well … how did she die?" Tony asked.

"She drowned."

"Drowned? In the ocean?"

"No. In Paolo Duro's swimming pool."

"Oh my god! Drive man, drive! I have to get to Angela right now!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

She spied the receptionist leaving her desk and the phone unattended. Angela peered down the hall, to her left, then to her right. Paolo was in private phone conference for the next hour and he'd left Angela to her own devices, as well as she could be while stuck in the offices of _Duro Maio _waiting for him to finish. He'd also given her work to do and stuck her in a colleague's office until he finished his telephone meetings.

Angela felt sneaky, even a bit guilty but a quiet desperation welled up within her and propelled her toward the phone. She'd seen the receptionist head to the photocopier with a huge stack of documents and figured she had at least ten minutes to make this call. She sat down at the reception desk and took the crumpled, sweat-stained paper out of her pocket. The phone number for the Marriott. Her heart thudded with each number she dialled.

"This is the Marriott, _boa tarde_, good afternoon," the pleasant sounding concierge answered into the phone.

"Good afternoon. I'd like to speak to one of your guests please. Tony Micelli, room 342." Angela waited until she was transferred. With each ring into Tony's room, Angela's heart skipped a beat. Her nerves were getting the better of her, as was her fear that he might be angry with her for not calling sooner. How would she explain that to him? If he knew that Paolo was preventing her from calling, he'd certainly flip out and …

"I am sorry, there is no answer," the concierge said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh." Disappointed.

"Would you like to leave him a message?"

"Um sure. Please tell him that Angela called. I'm at _Duro Maio_ now but will be heading over to Paolo's villa in about an hour."

"And what is the phone number where he can reach you?"

"I … I don't know." Angela quickly hung up the phone when she saw the receptionist veer around the corner. She stumbled out of the chair and grabbed a pen. "I needed to borrow a pen," she told the receptionist.

"_Tudo bem_, take pen, yes." The immaculately groomed brunette raised her left eyebrow and peered at her desk. Satisfied that everything was in order, she nodded at Angela and dismissed her.

Angela's walked on wobbly legs and headed toward the elevators, desperate for some fresh air. She had to get away, from the suspicious glances, from the constant company of others and complete lack of privacy. Even now, with Paolo in a meeting, rather than offer her his empty office, he'd locked it and told her to sit with young shy Esteban. In that tiny office, she'd felt like a fish in a fishbowl, conspicuous. Of course with Esteban guarding his phone, Paolo was once again ensuring that she couldn't call Tony.

As the elevator made its way down to the lobby, Angela tried to steady her breathing. Not only did she need to speak to Tony so he would know she was alright, she desperately needed to confide in him. With hindsight, she realized that he was always her 'go-to' person. When she had an idea that needed to be bounced off of someone, she called for Tony. When a client was giving her trouble, she told Tony first. When she was celebrating a victory, Tony was the one she couldn't wait to see. His advice, words of comfort and praise fed her soul. If she hadn't told Tony about a thing, it churned in her head until she could finally share it with him. Sure, she talked to Mother, but it was Tony's opinion that mattered the most. It was Tony's hugs that felt the warmest and safest, and it was Tony's sense of humour that kept her afloat during the difficult times. She longed to feel his comforting arms around her now. She longed to unburden herself and tell him everything about her virtual imprisonment and the hundred million dollar merger. If anybody could sort it out, it was Tony.

Frantic for freedom, Angela Bower practically vaulted out of that elevator, toward the lobby doors, where the sunshine was bright. Eyes struggling to adjust to the bright natural light, she didn't see him at first.

"Angela?!"

She swung around at the sound of his voice and froze where she stood. "Tony?" she asked, unsure of her good luck. "Tony? Oh my god, Tony. You're here." Angela flung her arms around him and held on for dear life. She pressed her cheek against his stubbled one and relished the feel of his rough skin against hers. She inhaled his masculine scent where his hair touched his collar and squeezed him even more tightly. She wanted more of him; she wanted to kiss him all over, her relief was so great.

"Ay-oh, Angela," Tony gently pulled himself out of her tight grip and held her at arm's length to look at her. "Why didn't you call me? I've been worried sick here." Tony's face betrayed him—his features mirrored everything he was feeling now—hurt, relief, resentment and love.

"I'm sorry, oh Tony, I'm so sorry. I tried to call you, I couldn't_"

"You couldn't? Were you that busy?" Tony's hurt expression was now dominant.

"No, I couldn't get to a phone," she admitted as she stared at their feet.

"Not for nothin', but that's a pretty lame excuse. You couldn't get to a phone? There's one right here in the lobby, Ang. And what, Paolo doesn't have a phone in his house?" Tony shook his head and took a step away from her.

"You don't understand." Angela swallowed the lump in her throat. She reached out to touch Tony's arm, but he shrugged her off.

"Look Angela, if you didn't want me here, you should have just said so. I thought we'd spend some time together, go to the beach, and see the sites." He noted her pallor and added, "Doesn't look like you've even been outside yet. You been workin' all this time? No breaks?"

Angela could sense him closing himself off. In her panic, she simply blurted out, "Paolo wouldn't let me call you. He hasn't left me alone for a minute, until now. Tony, I can't leave the villa!" Her face burned with shame because she'd just admitted the thing she feared. Paolo had completely usurped her autonomy and freedom.

He tilted his head as though trying to wrap his thoughts around her words. "He's holding you against your will and keeping you away from the phone?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," she whispered. "I couldn't get the code."

"What code?"

"To call outside of the house! I tried to call you my first day there but the call wouldn't go through. Then, I wanted to call you from here, but things got a bit crazy and last night when I wanted to return to the Marriott, Paolo became upset!" Angela's voice rose, tinged with faint hysteria.

Tony looked at her in surprise, scrutinizing her face, her voice and her gestures. "What's going on, Angela? Are you okay?"

Caught off guard by the seriousness of his tone, she shook her head and said, "No, I'm not." Admitting it made her feel weak and stupid. She couldn't meet his gaze.

"Hey, can you talk to me?" He gently put his index finger beneath her chin and raised it so he could look her in the eye. "Talk to me," he repeated. His dark eyes full of concern now, he moved his finger away from her chin and cupped her left cheek with his right hand. The heat of her blush seared his palm.

"Tony, can we just leave? I need to get away from him, er, from here."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Where to?"

"The hotel?"

"Are you askin' me or tellin' me?"

"It's where I want to go," she said, still sounding uncertain. "But my purse is upstairs. I have to get it."

"I'm coming with you. There's obviously a lot you haven't told me, but based on what you have said, there's no way in hell that I'm lettin' you back into the ogre's den alone." He expected her to protest but she nodded meekly instead.

"We better hurry. Paolo's tied up in a phone conference. I want to get out before he catches, er, sees me." She grabbed Tony's arm and pulled him toward the elevator. Adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream giving her courage. Tony at her side made her escape easier.

"Angela, I've been looking for you all day. I was here this morning, then at the factory, now back here. I thought I'd never find you." They were on the elevator, heading up to the top floor.

"Oh my god, you were at the factory?" she gasped. "Oh Tony, it was awful there. There were kids, little girls working their fingers to the bone."

"I know." His face was grim. "There's other stuff I found out about Paolo, Angela."

"What?"

He was about to answer her, but the elevator doors opened. "Quick, grab your purse!" He followed her into the corridor. The receptionist recognized him and waved.

"You found_ Senhora_ Bower," she exclaimed.

"Yeah, and we're leaving," he said. He watched Angela sprint down the hall and enter one of the offices. She exited and was walking toward him with her purse in hand.

"Got it. Tony, let's go. Now."

"Wait!" the receptionist called to the departing couple "Wait, I have notified _Senhor_ Duro. He's coming to talk to you. You must wait!"

Angela froze, trapped between the reception desk and the elevator, a mere few feet away. Her moment of indecision cost her. She heard his long angry footsteps before he came into view.

"_Querida_?" Paolo blocked the elevator doors with his large frame. "Where are you going?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_**A/N: Dear reader, I typed this with a cat on my arm. Seriously. He wouldn't budge. **_

"I'm leaving, Paolo," Angela said. Her voice was quiet and firm, and she stood tall, not backing down from him. Nothing Paolo could do or say would prevent her from leaving with Tony now.

She glared at him and he glared back, in what appeared to be a blinking contest—she stood her ground and he refused to budge.

"Get outta the way!" Tony shouted, when it was clear that Paolo wasn't going to give way. He continued to block the elevator, legs planted solid as tree trunks. "Move, or I'm gonna forcibly move you." Tony balled his fists and took a menacing step toward the taller man.

Paolo stepped aside and closer to Angela. In a harsh whisper, he said, "I hope you will be back to my villa this evening. You don't want to jeopardize a one hundred million dollar merger, do you? I'll give you the use of my limo so my driver can bring you back."

"Bring me back?" she scoffed. "Bring me back to your place, where I'm not allowed to make a phone call? Back to your virtual prison of luxury, where I can't come and go as I please?"

"You do not speak truth." Paolo replied. The angry gleam in his onyx eyes belied his cool demeanor.

"You're accusing me of lying?"

"Ay-oh, you accusin' her of lying?" Tony cut in. "And what merger?!"

"Truthfully, did I lock you in my home?" Paolo demanded, ignoring Tony. "Did I put a guard at the door and force you to stay?"

"I had no means of transportation at my disposal. And by refusing me access to your phone, I couldn't call a taxi," Angela retorted.

"You only needed to ask for the code and choose an appropriate time to make your phone calls. Asking to call your lawyer at midnight or to leave my home at one in the morning was ridiculous!" he reminded her. "As I recall, you chose to spend last night at my home, and to wait until today to phone your lawyer. I did not prevent anything. There are phones here … go, go and call your lawyer," Paolo taunted her. "I told you that I wished to speak to him as well. Do you not recall the details of our conversation last night?"

Paolo's words sowed confusion into her thoughts. "You're muddling everything I say!" she said. "You know very well that I couldn't call_"

Paolo cut her off. "I know of nothing. You are making false accusations."

"But … but …no, you wouldn't give me the code. You didn't give it to me when I wanted to call Tony that first night," she argued.

"You did not ask me for the code on the first night. You asked me the next morning as we were leaving to meet the Board of Directors. We were in a hurry. You could have made your call after the meeting." Paolo's words were calm and smooth, and the seeds of doubt that he planted in Angela's argument caused her to falter. He went in for the kill, "Did you not agree to stay last night, _querida_?"

"I … um … well yes," she capitulated.

"And were the only times you tried to make phone calls when we were late for an important meeting, and again after midnight?"

"Also during a meal," she added, strengthening his case against her.

"I will give you the code. It is 2364." Paolo flashed her a reassuring smile and patted her shoulder. "We have had quite a few _mal-entendido_. Perhaps it is a cultural difference. I will … how you say … forgive you this time. But the next time, I may not be so diplomatic. You would put our merger at risk with your _mentiras_."

"My what?" Angela felt nothing but confusion and a sense of defeat.

"What merger, Angela?" Tony asked again.

Caught between the two men, Angela swivelled around to face Tony but kept Paolo in her peripheral vision. "_Duro Maio_ wants to merge with the Bower Agency. Tony, I want to talk to you about it in more detail, but now's not a good time." She gave him a look that spoke volumes about her need to process everything.

Angela needed time to think, to separate her thoughts from Paolo's words, and sort out the truth from the doubts he kept planting in her mind. Whenever he refuted her statements, she questioned herself. And right now, her mind was awhirl with dissonant thoughts. Tony's merger questions weren't helping any either.

"I'm leaving," Angela said once more, though her tone was less sure and tinged with fatigue.

"I will call my limo for you," Paolo said.

"No thank you. Tony and I will be fine on our own."

Paolo positioned himself between Angela and the elevator door, "Do not take my proposal lightly. You will return to my villa after you have visited with your … maid. Take the limo."

"Actually Paolo, I'm going to stay at the Marriott tonight. You can send your limo to pick me up in the morning for work. My nights are my own, and I want to spend them with Tony." She pushed past him and pressed the elevator button.

"One hundred million dollars," Paolo warned her. "You can be replaced."

Angela straightened her shoulders, and continued to stare at the elevator doors. She wasn't sure that she didn't want to be replaced right now. Weighing the pros and cons of huge international success and incredible wealth against her personal autonomy was a precarious scale at best. It could tip either way, and right now she needed to be alone and think.

"_Senhora_ Bower! _Senhora_ Bower!" Esteban cried out frantically, stampeding out of office and down the corridor toward Angela.

"What is it Esteban?"

"EMI Capitol called. You got it! They have given the Bower Agency copyrights to use Duran Duran's song _Rio_!"

The power shifted.

"EMI Capitol gave _my agency the_ rights to the song? Oh. Well I guess I'm not that replaceable after all, am I?" Angela said without turning around. The elevator doors opened and she walked straight in with Tony at her side knowing that she'd just won this round.

* * *

"Oh Tony, an ocean view—how lovely!" Angela sat on the bed in their suite and kicked off her high heels. From the bed, she needed only to turn her face toward the window to admire the water. She propped herself up on her elbow, and took deep relaxing breaths. It was then she realized that she'd barely been breathing during her time with Paolo. No wonder she was so tense. Her head hurt, her neck ached, her shoulders felt tight and her back was in spasms.

Tony watched Angela as she stared out the window, feeling a tremendous sense of relief that she was here with him. "It's a great view. I spent my first day here watching people swim."

"You did? You stayed in the room?" Angela sat up to look at him. "Why didn't you join them?"

"Because Angela, I was waitin' for you to call me. After Paolo dumped me here, he took off with you, and I had no way to reach you. He deliberately separated us and cut you off." Tony shook his head. "Are you ready to talk yet? About the merger and stuff?" he probed. Angela had remained quiet during the taxi ride back to the hotel, and Tony had respected her need for silence despite the multitude of questions that percolated and threatened to explode out of his mouth.

"I'm so sorry Tony. I'm sorry you were waiting for my call and worrying. Yes, we'll talk," she began, "but first I need to relax. Talk of Paolo is making my headache return. I'm not kidding; as soon as I think or talk about him, my neck and shoulders tense up again, then a sharp pain shoots up my neck, behind my ear and around my skull!" With her fingers, she traced the path of pain over her neck and skull.

"You poor thing. He really did a number on you." Tony came to sit beside her on the bed. "You're just gonna relax for what's left of today, okay? Can you take tomorrow off, and spend it with me? We can unwind on the beach, do a bit of site-seeing …" he trailed off, not wanting to pressure her.

"I'd love nothing more, really." Angela gave him a wan smile.

"What? No objections?" He studied her, noticing the dark smudges beneath her eyes and the pinched look on her pale face. She wasn't getting enough sleep or taking care of herself. "'Cause Angela, if anybody needs a vacation, it's you."

"You're right. I need a break from Paolo, from his incessant need to control everything I do, and from work in general. I'm going to leave a message with his secretary letting her know that tomorrow I'm taking a vacation day. EMI Capitol signed a contract with the Bower Agency. I've got some leverage now, Tony. And frankly, the thought of seeing Paolo again is giving me a migraine." She pressed her fingers to her right temple and twisted her neck to the side. Angela carried her tension in her neck and shoulders, and more often than not, the inevitable outcome was a right-sided migraine.

Tony decided that his number one goal over the next twenty four hours would be to help Angela relax and keep her away from Paolo. He also wanted to get to the bottom of this merger business.

"Ow," Angela cried. An audible cracking noise burst from her neck, which she now cradled in her hands.

"What did you do!?"

"Something just went pop in there … uh, I think I stretched my neck the wrong way. Oh god, it hurts."

"Not for nothin' Ang, but I ain't heard a pop like that come from a human body since my shoulder injury. Let me have a look."

"I'm scared to let go," she whimpered.

"Gently now, gently, okay? I promise I won't hurt you." Tony pried her hands away from her neck and put his warm hands where hers had been. He let their heat sink into her skin and waited for her breathing to ease. "There, there," he murmured into her ear. The tension in her neck sat like a stone in his hands, hard and unyielding. With the utmost gentleness, he caressed the spasmed area, increasing the pressure of his touch in small increments so that she could bear it. "Is that okay?" he asked her.

"Ummm, yes. It's helping."

"You need a real massage. Why don't you change into something comfortable and I'll work my magic fingers on your neck and shoulders."

"I would, except I left all my things at Paolo's villa. I haven't got a thing with me, not even a toothbrush. Oh dear, I don't even know how to get in touch with Paolo to have my things sent back and I don't want to return to the villa! Tony, what am I going to do? My passport is in my suitcase!" Angela's notched up anxiety returned the rock-like tension to her neck and shoulders. Tony could literally feel it growing beneath his sensitive fingers.

"Calm down, Angela. We'll get your stuff, but you don't need it this second. There's a gift shop downstairs, where you can get basic toiletries and a souvenir nightgown. Just tell me what you need, and I'll go and grab it. You stay here and relax." Before she could object, he added, "and take a hot shower will ya? It'll help ease some of them knots that are growing back. Geez, and here I thought I'd gotten rid of this one. Now it's double the size." Tony firmly pressed on the largest stress point causing Angela to cry out.

"Tony! Owwww."

"Sorry, but I think you just proved my point. Now get in the shower. I'll get you a toothbrush and a nightgown."

"Um, and an antiperspirant please," she said, slightly embarrassed.

"Alright. Anything else? I mean I got stuff you can borrow, like toothpaste and shampoo …"

"Maybe I should go with you to the shop. I, er, also need underthings."

"That's not a problem. They sell everything in that shop."

"Yeah but, Tony… my underthings? You wouldn't know what to get."

"You're kiddin' right? Angela, I know that you're a size six and a 34B, and that you have a preference for plain black or white cotton, detest synthetic fabrics, and sometimes you like a bit of lace."

"Oh my god," she gasped and stumbled backward on the bed. "Ow, my neck." She stared at him, eyes round like saucers. "You know all that about my _underwear_?"

"Well I do do your laundry," he said with a sheepish grin. "Besides, this isn't my first foray to buy a training bra for Sam, ya know?"

She blinked but said nothing. Of course he did her laundry, but she'd always pictured him throwing it into the washing machine, willy-nilly, eyes closed, and probably with a great deal of male uneasiness. Yet now, he sounded so unfazed, like a man running mundane errands for his wife. A hot blush crept up her sore neck and coloured her cheeks in vivid shades of crimson. She turned her gaze back out the window.

"Take that shower and when I return, I'll give you a massage. Make sure that water's hot, so it can really do its job, okay?" He was looking at her with such concern and worry, especially because her head was oddly twisted to one side. "Gotta fix that neck."

He left her sitting on the bed, transfixed by the sight of the ocean.

* * *

Angela took the longest, hottest shower she could remember. The heat and pulsating showerhead eased the surface tension from her shoulders but the stiff knots remained heavy and tender. They needed human hands, Tony's hands, to obliterate them.

"Yo Ang, I'm back," Tony called out from the bedroom. "You still in the shower? There's a steam cloud in here. Using up all the hot water in Brazil?"

"I'm done—just moisturizing my legs" she replied, then wondered why she'd told him that at all.

"I got your stuff. Come have a look." Tony set his purchases down on the bed and spread them out for her to examine. He'd gotten a standard toothbrush and a hairbrush, two pairs of white cotton undies and a bra in her size, as well as a souvenir sleep shirt, a pair of socks, a day shirt, a deodorant and a face powder like the one she had at home. He'd also splurged and chosen a bikini for their day at the beach tomorrow. The shop carried a wide selection of _Duro Maio_ bikinis but Tony ignored those in favour of a little turquoise number with brown flowers. He'd never seen Angela in a bikini but his imagination informed him that this particular one would look stunning on her, or rather, she'd look stunning in it. Instead of setting it out with the other things, he tucked it out of sight. He'd give it to her tomorrow.

Angela came out of the bathroom, looking cozy and adorable in the hotel issued white terrycloth robe. It was a bit loose on her, and he could glimpse a hint of cleavage where the robe gaped at the front.

"Oh my, so many things." She walked over to the bed and looked through the items he'd purchased.

"Is this stuff okay, Angela?" He was a bit concerned by her expression of dismay upon seeing the sleep shirt."

"Yes, everything is perfect, thank you. But where's the rest of this pajama?"

"The rest of it?"

"Yeah, the bottom part." She shook the shirt three times to see if the pants would somehow magically appear.

"That's the whole thing right there, in your hands. There is no second part to it. It's a sleep shirt, Angela, not a pair of pajamas." Tony grabbed it out of her hands and held it up in front of her. "See? It's long enough."

"For a micro mini, perhaps."

"I can take it back. There was a longer lacy nightie in black silk if you'd prefer. I just thought you'd like this one 'cause it says Rio on it."

"Uh huh. It's um nice. Thank you Tony." She tidied up the items and carried them over to the dresser and placed them inside. "No pants for tomorrow?"

"You're going to be spending tomorrow at the beach! Besides, you can buy your own pants, or call Paolo and get your things sent over." Tony noticed her cringe at the mention of Paolo's name. "So, Ang, you ready for that massage? Did the shower help a bit?" He reminded himself not to mention Paolo, not to even say his blasted name.

"Yes, the heat helped somewhat, but the knot isn't budging."

"Alright, well why don't you take off your robe and lie down on your tummy?"

"T …t …take off my robe?"

"Well yeah, I can't massage you through thick terry cloth. Even _my_ fingers aren't _that_ good. Relax, Angela. You can throw a towel over your, er, derriere. Isn't that how they do it at the spa?" Tony had once received a massage gift card from Angela after he'd wrenched his back cleaning the eaves troughs. He remembered the towel bit. And the massage oil too. "Look what I got," he said with a sly grin.

"Massage oil?" Angela cast her eyes down at the bed, then back up at Tony holding the little bottle of oil.

"Yeah, the saleslady said this one is very relaxing. It's ylang-ylang. Here take a whiff." He held the open bottle against her nose. The sweet fragrance wafted before her like flowers heavy with dew.

"Ummm."

"So, you approve?" Her half-open eyelids and open mouth told him she did. "Come on, hop up and I'll knead those knots out of your neck."

Angela remembered what she'd once gleaned in an aromatherapy brochure at the health food store. Ylang-ylang had antidepressant, antiseptic and relaxing properties, and could also be used as an aphrodisiac. "It smells wonderful." She saw Tony's earnest expression and his desire to help her. After spending two days with Paolo, Tony was the cure. And he was offering it to her now, in the form of a delicately scented oil, warm willing hands and genuine care. Unlike Paolo, he did not have ulterior motives, nor would he suddenly expose himself to her. She shuddered at the memory of Paolo's shocking audacity by the pool, and her neck spasmed in response.

"Wow, you really do need to relax. I'm just gonna turn around and you tell me when you're ready, okay? Here's a towel."

'Don't overthink this, Angela,' she told herself. She untied the bathrobe, hesitated for a moment, and turned around to make sure that Tony wasn't looking. True to his word, he was staring at the wall. She drew a sharp breath and flung off the robe, standing nude in the middle of the room. The mere act of undressing beside Tony (even if he was facing the wall) aroused her. She had a sudden impulse of wanting to tap his shoulder and show herself to him. 'But then I'd be like Paolo,' she thought. She shook her head and lay down on her stomach, then flung the towel over her bum. "I'm ready," she called.

Tony stood at the foot of the bed and stared. The first thing he noticed was the misplaced towel, too high up her back and not covering the lower part of her behind. He gulped. His gaze continued downward to the tops of her nude thighs. He had to repress the desire in himself or he wouldn't be able to give her a proper massage. 'Stop lookin' at her legs,' he silently reprimanded himself. His eyes obeyed and trialed up her body to her smooth back instead, the dim light showcasing the silken skin.

'Don't think, Micelli,' he chided himself. 'Just do it.' He poured some of the oil into his hands and warmed it up, then tried to imitate what he remembered from his own massage. He placed one hand on either side of her shoulders and began to rub in the oil with circular strokes. "I'll work on your neck after I've done your back and shoulders, okay?"

"Ummm."

Tony went to work, sliding his hands down her entire torso and back up again. He kneaded the tension around her spine, careful not to touch the spine itself. Ever so often, Angela would let out a small sigh or a barely audible moan. The small feminine sounds were tiny rewards onto themselves. He was also rewarded by the incredible softness of her skin; she was unlike any woman he'd ever touched before, like warmed velvet, or buttery silk. He didn't know, didn't care, except for wanting to touch her everywhere. "Your skin is so soft," popped out of his mouth.

"Ummmm."

Clearly, Angela was in her own little world now. He'd elicited two moans in a row from her, instead of the usual double sigh, half moan, full sigh and full moan. He was counting. How he'd love to hear her moan and cry out his name in lovemaking. The image appeared in his head and he entertained it.

"Tony? Don't stop."

"Sorry Ang … just resting my fingers. You have a very tense back," he said, as if he actually knew that. So focussed was he on the feel of her skin, that he hadn't paid much attention to the stressed out sinews along her lower back. He adjusted himself so she wouldn't feel anything poking into her back, and in his anxiety to be proper, unintentionally pushed her towel to the side. She didn't react, and he stared besotted at her beautiful backside. He was reminded of a ripe peach and longed to put his mouth against her skin and nibble the ripe flesh. Unable to tear away his eyes from her assets, he continued massaging her downward, over her entire back, and lower, to her gluteal muscles.

"Tony? Where's my towel?" she asked, her voice sleepy and faraway. Angela had drifted off but Tony's hands on her bare behind was such an arousing sensation that it'd jerked her awake. Pleasantly and erotically. She shifted slightly, feeling quite vulnerable because of her nudity, but wanting to face him, wanting to pull him down on top of her and kiss him senseless. Her heart was racing and an uncomfortable throbbing deep within her centre decided to assert its presence right then and there. She squirmed and wiggled her behind, willing her legs to stay closed. "My … towel … please," she said between heavy breaths.

"It fell, yaknow. I gotitnowandhereitis," he replied, words slurred and running together as frantically as his heart was pounding. "Sorry Ang." Tony bent down and picked the towel off the floor. He couldn't help but admire the way her nude body pressed into the firm mattress, not heavy enough to sink in. He snuck a peak at the side of her left breast and forced himself to look away.

"I, uh, I need a break, Angela. Maybe I can massage your neck if you sit up … wearing something. I .. I need a shower. Bye."

Angela heard him go into the bathroom and run the shower. A cold one, no doubt, she told herself. She knew she could use one too. Sharing a room with Tony and spending the day together would be a challenge, she realized. One she was looking forward to.

_A/N: More to come: Next, Tony and Angela's day at the beach. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Angela woke to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttery croissants. She stretched in her hotel bed, temporarily disoriented. Then she remembered. She remembered returning to the Marriott with Tony, her neck spasm (it was still hurting), his personal shopping spree for her, as well as the massage that had ended so abruptly. Still cocooned in the semi-daze of sleep, she closed her eyes and relived the feel of Tony's strong hands on her back and backside. He hadn't returned to her after his cold shower. At first she'd thought he might, and continue massaging her shoulders, then work the kinks out of her neck. But in the end, he'd merely popped his head out of the steamy bathroom and said a hasty goodnight to her. He'd gone and slept on the little fold out couch in the suite's living area, leaving her alone in the bed.

She couldn't help but feel badly about this, as though she'd scared him away. But then again, it wasn't her fault that the towel had fallen to the wayside. A line had been crossed, the mysterious, undefinable line that she and Tony constantly toed and tested. His hands on her behind had definitely pushed the boundary beyond mere testing, and the regrettable result was his reluctance to return to her. The memory of his touch remained with her, like faded embers. She knew that if he were to touch her again, he'd ignite her passion, but she doubted that he'd make that mistake twice. Feeling slightly glum about the whole thing, she headed into the bathroom. When she'd finished her ablutions, a surge of shyness overtook her. She tugged at the hem of her Rio sleep shirt, but no matter how much she tugged at it, it remained inches above her knees.

"Good morning," Tony called to her as she joined him in the main room. "I called room service for breakfast. Coffee, croissants and soft boiled eggs." Tony tried to sound nonchalant but he didn't look it, especially not with his eyes bulging out of his head like a cartoon character at the sight of Angela in her Rio nightshirt. She'd been right—it was too short. He eventually averted his eyes, but not before giving her long legs the once over, then the twice over. She caught him looking and pulled at the hem of her shirt, then sat down with her legs pressed together.

"Thank you. It smells wonderful." Angela took the cup that Tony handed her and sipped her coffee. "Delicious."

Tony was now looking anywhere but at Angela's legs. In his worried determination to avoid them, his head movements became jerky and odd. "So, uh, Angela," he began while gazing out the window, "sure is a nice day today. Perfect for the beach, eh?"

"It is lovely. I regret not spending any time outdoors yet."

"You work too hard. But hey, I heard that Paolo's villa has a pool." He wanted to tell her about Lucia Corado, the model who had drowned in Paolo's pool. Then, he hoped that she'd confide in him about the mysterious merger he'd heard being alluded to. After that, he would persuade her to dump Paolo's account and stay away from him.

"Yes, he does have a pool," she said, then looked away from him to hide her furious blush.

Tony noticed her crimson cheeks, the flare of her nostrils and the look of utter disgust on her face. "Something happen at the pool?" he asked cautiously.

"You could say that." Angela walked over to the window with her coffee and stared out at the ocean. She fixed her gaze on the repetitive movement of the waves and took three deep breaths, silently counting to ten each time.

"You gonna share it with me?" Tony stood up and walked over to her.

"I'd rather not," she said.

"But Angela, if somethin' happened by the pool, I'd like to know about it."

"Forget it Tony. It was nothing, really." She took a step away from him and busied herself with her coffee rather than face his hurt and worried eyes.

"But Angela, what you don't know is that _." Tony was interrupted by the unexpected clanging of the hotel phone. Its unfamiliar ring made them both jump.

"I wonder who that could be!" Angela's heart gave a little start, thinking it might be Paolo.

"It could be the kids," Tony replied.

"Right. I'll get it. Hello?" she said into the receiver. "Oh hello Esteban …. Yes ….he is!? (pause) Uh huh, mmm, yes of course. Well thank you Esteban. I really appreciate the heads up. Bye."

"What was that about? Who's Esteban?"

"He's on _Duro Maio's_ Board of Directors … just a kid really. A nice kid. He called to tell me that Paolo is furious with me for calling in a vacation day today." Angela shuddered, then added, "Esteban warned me that Paolo is on his way over. We have got to get out of here!"

"What?! Why can't this sleaze bag just leave you alone?"

"Probably because there's a one hundred million dollar merger at stake."

"Could you repeat that, Ang? 'Cause I think I've got some wax in my ears. Thought I heard you say, a one hundred million dollar merger!" He stared at her, aghast.

"It's very generous. Too generous. _Duro Maio_ wants to merge the Bower Agency into itself as a subsidiary. They want me to do all of their advertising."

"_They_ … you mean _him_. Paolo. Angela, he wants to own your agency. You can't let him. The guy is a control freak."

"He lets me come up with my own campaign and ideas," Angela argued.

"Well gee, how generous of him," Tony spat out. "Of course he lets you come up with ideas. That's 'cause you're a creative genius. He can't think of anything himself. If you merge with him, he'll own your agency, and all of its ideas. No, it's not a good idea." Tony's voice rose with anger and he began to gesticulate. "Don't you see, Angela? Don't you see that even if he gives you a hundred million dollars, you won't be richer? You'll be his. He already tried to make you his. He tried to prevent you from leaving his house. He wouldn't let you call me. You have nothing to gain from a merger with him."

"But what about the international success that would follow?"

"Do you think Paolo would let you take on new clients? What did the merger paperwork stuff say?"

"That he'd have to approve new clients," she replied, her voice low and subdued.

"A-ha!"

"Tony … I just … I had such high hopes for this campaign and I … oh god, I don't know what to do!" Angela sat on the sofa bed and put her mug down, then hid her face in her hands.

"Ay-oh, it's okay." He knelt down before her and waited to be acknowledged. When she moved her hands away from her face, he grasped them in his own.

"Angela, do you remember when you got fired from _Wallace &amp; McQuade_? Do you remember how you felt? How lost you were?"

"Of course I do. How could I ever forget one of the worst days of my life?!"

"Don't ever forget, Angela. You've come a long way since that day you cried on my shoulder. Look what you accomplished with your own tears, sweat and hard work. You started your own agency, weathered the early snags when business was slow, generated a steady clientele and built a strong reputation. It's a good thing, Angela. And you did it by yourself, no Paolo."

"I didn't do it all by myself. I had help … good help." She gave him a shy smile and added, "I never would have started the Bower Agency without your encouragement, Tony. You gave me the confidence and support I needed."

"Well hey, families stick together. And we're family."

"We are?" His words gave her hope.

"Of course we are. You know that. You, me, Mona, and the kids. We're definitely a family." Tony nodded his head with vigor and stood up. "And ya know what else? Since you're giving me credit for helping you start your agency, then let me have a say in its fate now, please."

"Alright."

"Thank you." Tony paused to find the right words. "Angela, ever since the night you met Paolo, I've felt that something is, er, off."

"Off?"

"Yeah, _off_. Not right, as in _not supposed to be._ I can't explain it any better than that. Everything about him is wrong. I don't trust him, not as far as I can throw him. Please don't merge with him, Angela. The Bower Agency is yours. Don't sell it to him."

"I'll lose the account."

"I know, and I wouldn't ask that of you unless I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was the right thing to do. I'm sorry about your commercial."

"Just like that, huh?"

"Not 'just like that'. Angela, I didn't decide to come to Brazil 'just like that'. I knew I had to come."

"You … you weren't looking for a vacation?"

"That was merely a secondary benefit," he chuckled. "I wanted to keep an eye on Paolo and make sure you were okay."

"What?" Angela was taken aback by his admission. "You came here to protect me?"

"To be your friend. Seemed to me you needed a friend, even if you didn't know to ask for it."

Angela wasn't sure if she should be angry with him for deciding that she needed a protector, or be thankful that he was looking out for her. He always did that—looked out for her. She decided the latter would be more appropriate given the circumstances. "Thanks for looking out for me, Tony."

"Always, Angela. Always." He fixed his warm eyes on hers, their expression so kind and open.

"Always," she repeated, a bit choked up now. Families were for always. Was Tony making a life-long commitment to her, or merely being a good friend? She couldn't be sure but his assurances were enough for her now. Enough to make the choice she needed to make.

"Alright." She stood up and exhaled hard.

"Alright …what?"

"I'm taking your advice. I'm keeping my agency and not merging it with _Duro Maio_." Her shoulders sagged under the weight of the upcoming confrontation. "Paolo is going to blow a gasket."

"Don't you worry about him. I'll stay with you. I mean after what happened to that poor model_"

"What poor model?" she interrupted.

"Lucia Corado. She was a famous Brazilian model and the object of Paolo's intense desire. She drowned in his swimming pool."

"Oh my god? What? In his pool?" she gasped, shoulders rigid with horror now. A girl had died in that pool? The same pool where Paolo had thought it appropriate to expose himself? A pool he still used on a daily basis? Goosebumps broke out all over her arms and legs and she shivered.

"Yeah, and I'm not ruling out foul play, Angela. When I found out about her, I knew I had to find you right away." Tony stood beside her and laid one hand on her shoulder. "Wow, you're still so tense. How's that neck?"

"It hurts. You never got around to massaging it last night." She wouldn't look at him when she said it. The sexual tension between them was palpable and she feared it might go up in flames. However, she was also miffed by his faintheartedness, all while understanding his reluctance to touch her again. In a nutshell, Angela was confused about Tony, hurt, turned on, and overwhelmed by the situation with Paolo.

"I thought it safer if I retreated to my own corner last night, er, after the towel fell," he admitted sheepishly.

"Safer? For whom?"

"Angela!"

"I'm sorry, never mind Tony."

Tony simply stared at her from beneath furrowed brows. "Did you want …?"

"Never mind what I wanted." She took a step away from him and crossed her arms. "We have more pressing matters to worry about. Such as the fact that Paolo is on his way over. Tony, I need clothes so we can get out of here. Now."

"You don't need clothes."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, I mean that I got you this!" He flashed her a wide grin and went to grab something from under the bed.

"What have you got there?" she asked.

"A bathing suit. I bought it last night. I've always thought turquoise was a nice colour on you. Brown too." Tony took the bikini out of its bag and handed it to her. "Ta-da! Well, what do you think?"

She fingered the material and held out the bikini to examine it. "It's not one of Paolo's," she said in surprise.

"I'm boycotting him."

She laughed despite herself. "This bikini is, um, it's very nice."

"But..."

"It's not a 'but'. It's a 'however'. _However_, it is rather smallish. Kind of like this sleep shirt."

"It's a size six Angela." Tony showed her the tag. "I know that's your size. It's on all your clothing labels at home."

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Just try it on, will ya? If Paolo's on his way over, we need to get outta here."

"Right." Angela took the tiny bikini into the bathroom and got herself ready. After a quick shower, she donned the little turquoise and brown number and gasped at her reflection in the mirror. The bikini fit her to perfection. It pushed up her boobs and made her legs seem even longer than humanly possible. "Wow," she whispered to herself. She spun around a couple of times, checking that the bikini bottoms would stay in place. The extreme high cut of the briefs made her very glad to have invested in a waxing treatment the previous week. Angela wasn't usually one to bother with fancy spa services, but she'd taken care to wax her bikini line in the event of having to wear a _Duro Maio_ on the beaches of Rio. This _Tony-miao_ was even sexier and she was pretty sure that this size six corresponded to a size four back home. She'd also invested in a salt rub, and her skin glowed as a result, pale though it was.

She stepped out of the bathroom, chin up and shoulders back. Tony's suit made her feel beautiful and womanly. She loved how much cleavage the bra gave her. "It fits," she said.

Tony turned around and gripped the side of the night table for support. "Holy smokes," he murmured. "Angela?"

"In the flesh."

"And so much of it," he replied, agog.

"Yes well, you chose this bikini, Tony." Her cheeks flushed beneath his fervent gaze and she swallowed hard. "Come on, we need to leave before Paolo gets here. Why aren't you in your bathing trunks?"

"Just give me a sex …er, ah, a _second_," he stammered. They both blushed at his Freudian slip and looked away from each other.

* * *

"Oh Tony, this beach is simply perfect. I can't believe how much I've missed by staying at Paolo's villa," she exclaimed. Angela tilted her head back to the sun, inviting the warmth and light to spread over her face. Her smile made it even brighter, like a megawatt bulb. Tony was reminded of a sun goddess, the way she stood there with her arms out. He could have continued to stare at her all day.

He shed his shirt and found them a couple of beach chairs, then spread their hotel towels over them. "You should probably wear sunscreen, Angela. You're very pale, and I wouldn't want you to burn."

His words broke her sun-induced reverie and she turned to face him, with lips slightly parted. "You certainly aren't pale," she commented. She cast her eyes over his well-defined muscles, pausing to gaze at his chiseled chest. She could feel her pulse accelerating but was unable to tear her eyes from him. "Sunscreen?"

"Yeah, here." He thrust the bottle into her hands but she wasn't paying attention to it and dropped it at their feet. They both knelt down to pick it up at the same time, accidentally bumping their foreheads together.

"Ow," they said in unison.

Their faces were close and flushed. They were both breathing fast and Angela could feel last night's dying embers sparking back to life. "Can you apply it?" she asked.

"Uh huh." Tony picked up the bottle of sunscreen and motioned for Angela to lie down on the beach chair. "I'll do you, I mean, do your back," he stammered. She was going to be the death of him if this continued. Merely being in such close proximity to her bikini-clad body was having an effect on his breathing. He also needed to quickly readjust himself so that nothing would stand out too obviously. "Excuse me," he muttered, turning his body away from her and wiggling his lower half to make things go down.

He straddled her legs and tried to conjure up images of road kill but was distracted by the gleaming skin before him. He squirted some lotion onto her back and began rubbing it into her torso. His movements echoed those of the ill-fated massage but this time, he allowed himself to continue. He used short, deep strokes and worked the sunscreen into her shoulders, arms, then moved his way down to her legs. He worked slowly, relishing the feminine contours of her thighs and calves. "Oh boy …" he breathed.

"Okay, your turn, your turn!" Angela said. She sat up and faced him, their dilated pupils fixated on the other. If he continued touching her this way, she was liable to seduce him here and now. She grabbed for the bottle of sunscreen and hastily slathered it on the front of her thighs, then on her chest and belly, conscious of his gaze upon her while she did so. She looked up at him and told him to turn around. Squeezing a generous blob of lotion into her hands, she rubbed the lotion forcefully into his arms and back. She had to quell an overwhelming desire to kiss the back of his neck and bit down hard on her bottom lip to distract herself.

Tony enjoyed the feel of her hands massaging his flesh. Her touch was firm and sure, and she used long strokes, pausing every so often to squeeze a muscle. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to distract himself from the pleasure she was giving him.

"Uh Angela, maybe we should go in the water," he suggested. He needed cold water on himself, now.

"Yes, let's." She waggled her eyebrows at him and shouted playfully, "Race you, Micelli."

They ran, toward the water and away from the flaming embers. They ran together, giggling with mirth and joy, splashing noisily into the water a few feet, but when the water was waist deep, Tony stopped. "You win," he said.

"Well come on in where it's deeper," she said. "The water is perfect!"

"Uh, no thanks."

"Why? What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Tony stood fused where he was, unable to move.

"Don't you want to swim with me?" she asked.

"Er, can't," he mumbled.

"What? I can't hear you." Angela waded over to him and wondered at his worried expression. "What's the matter, Tony?"

"I can't swim," he admitted. "Don't think any less of me, Angela. I had a traumatic childhood incident where I was nearly drowned by a fat woman with thighs like marble columns."

"Oh no, you poor thing," she said. "Come on, don't be scared. Hold my hand." She held her hand out to him and waited for him to grasp it. "Follow me, Tony." He kept his focus on her, desperate to ignore his fear. He was always happy to splash in the surf, so long as the water didn't go higher than his belly button. He followed Angela and realized the water was now chest-deep. "Ohhhhh," he moaned.

"Do you need to stop?" she asked him. He made a little whining sound in response, so she stood with him in the chest-deep water and waited. "You're alright, Tony. Seawater is very buoyant—look I can float without even trying." Angela stretched out on her back and floated effortlessly. She spread out her arms and gently kicked her feet to stay afloat, her movements barely perceptible. "This is very relaxing, and the water is doing all the work."

"You sure wear that bikini well," he said.

"Tony, are you paying attention?" She returned to a standing position and shook her head at him. "Do you want to try?"

"Huh, what?"

"Earth to Tony. Do you want to try floating on your back? I'll help you."

He looked away from her and gathered his courage. Children were swimming. Old ladies were swimming. Why couldn't he? It bugged him and was a source of extreme embarrassment.

"Come on, Tony. Here, rest on my arms. Lie back and relax. Relax in my arms and let me hold you up. The water is doing most of the work." She put her hands on his shoulders to soothe him. "It's okay. I won't let you drown." That last word gave her goosebumps again, but she dismissed the unpleasant thought and stayed focused on Tony. She held her arms straight out in front of her and explained to him how to float. After some finagling, much reassurance on Angela's part and much fretting on Tony's part, a small measure of success was won. After his fifth try to rest back in Angela's arms, he let his feet float up.

"That's it … you're getting the hang of it!" she squealed. Then his toes touched bottom again.

"One more try. Pretend you're not in water. Pretend we're in bed, okay? Now lie down."

"Okay," he smirked. "We're in bed." Tony let that thought fill his brain and pretended to lie down on a mattress. 'Like a waterbed' he told himself.

"Tony," she said in mock warning. "Hey, you're doing it! You're floating, see? Now just relax into it. Don't think, just feel … feel the gentle waves holding you up, um, feel the sun on your face, feel that I'm close to you and won't let you drop." She purposefully avoided the other d-word.

For the first time in his life, Tony Micelli floated on water. He was conscious of Angela's hands behind his back and knees, but this was a triumph nonetheless. He put his head back into the water and let it cover his ears. Sounds became muffled and he focused on the gentle lapping of waves against his body. And he was aware of Angela's body, the scent of coconut sunscreen, seawater and sunshine. He had a sudden desire to lick her. "Ummmmm," he sighed in pleasure.

"You're comfortable?" she asked him. The goofy grin on his face made her smile.

"Umm, I've never done this before. Thank you. You're the best, Angela."

"Don't fall asleep on me. I'll have to carry you back to shore," she teased.

"No worries about that!" Tony stood up and faced her. With no forewarning, he scooped her up and began running toward the sand with her in his arms.

"Oh my goodness. Toooneeeee," she shrieked. "Ha, ha,ha, put me down. Tony!" Her protest was in jest; she enjoyed being carried by him, tightly against his strong torso. There was power in his movements and she felt herself being jostled with every step he took.

"Wrap your arms around my neck, so you don't, er, bounce so much," he said. Though he did enjoy the bouncing, he wanted her closer to him. She complied and wound her arms around him. Their skin, slippery and wet slid off of each other, so that every so often, he pulled her up higher, against him so she wouldn't slide out of his grasp. Each time he did so, he was rewarded with a particularly mesmerizing view of her bouncing breasts. He could feel them against his chest and wanted nothing more than to free her of that bikini top.

"And here we are, safely on land," he declared.

"So, are you going to put me down?" she asked.

"I'm thinking about it. You do feel lighter in the water. How much do you weigh?" he teased her.

"Tony!" She gave him a playful slap on the shoulder and smiled up at him. The water in his hair glistened, and the sun played with one droplet of water near his ear. Unable to resist, she reached out to touch it and held the drop on her fingertip. "The sun was shining through this droplet," she said. "It's beautiful." She really wanted to tell him that _he_ was beautiful but she felt shy now, acutely aware of their state of semi—undress and physical intimacy.

"Angela, thank you. Thank you for givin' me that incredible experience," he said as he began to set her down. She didn't let go of his neck when her toes touched sand.

"You're welcome. Seeing that joy on your face, Tony … it was so beautiful."

"Yeah, beautiful," he echoed. She looked up and he was watching her, but no longer smiling. He moved his face closer and pressed his forehead to hers, so that their noses were touching. His mouth was so close—she could feel his breath against her cheek. But he did not kiss her. They stood like that, foreheads and noses pressed together, simply breathing each other in. Her arms remained around his neck and his wound their way over her hips, resting on her soft curves. They were lost in each other, unaware of the screeching children, the vendors calling out their wares, or the nearby ghetto blaster. They were in a world of two.

"Angela!" his sharp voice startled them.

"Paolo?" Angela gaped at the unwelcome intrusion. "What … what are you doing here?" She felt Tony's arms holding her and she leaned back into his chest for support.

"I left a message that I was coming. We need to talk! Now."

Angela stood rigid with fear and found herself quite unable to speak. She opened her mouth but no words came out. Paolo didn't belong here. This was hers and Tony's beach. She shook her head.

"Angela, we have business to discuss. You will accompany me to my office, after you've changed out of your bathing suit. That is not one of my _maios_," he chastised her.

"No."

"I will give you a nicer _maio_," he replied.

"No. No to your _maio_ and no to leaving with you." Angela found her voice and it was strong. "Paolo, I've decided against the merger."

He stared at her in disbelief and began to protest, spewing a torrent of Portugese insults. Angela cringed at his angry expletives, even though she couldn't understand what he was saying. Paolo was spitting out a few too many _cadela_ and _idiota_ to be talking about rainbows and unicorns.

"Enough!" Tony roared. "Get outta here, or I'll make you."

"I am leaving for now. But this is not over, Angela Bower. It is not over." Paolo stormed off, the sand emanating in violent bursts behind his steps.

"Oh my god, Tony. What have we done?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Paolo's unforeseen appearance had the unfortunate result of creating a sense of friction between Tony and Angela, as well as ruining their pleasurable trip to the beach.

"The sooner you terminate your contract with him, the better," Tony advised Angela in a tone that made his feelings on the matter crystal clear. "Besides, you need your stuff back."

"What do you want me to do? March into his villa and demand my suitcase?"

"We'll go together."

"But Tony, what about our day of relaxation? Our beach day?" Angela asked him.

"I don't know about you, but I can't relax anymore. Not with Paolo breathin' down our necks. You gotta get rid of him, Angela. You gotta end things, sever all ties with that control freak." He noted Angela's look of consternation and tried to reassure her. "Hey, if we wanna go back to enjoying ourselves on the beach, you've gotta take care of this first."

Angela sat down on the beach chair and put her head in her hands. "I only wanted a little break from him first. The thought of dealing with him again today just … oh Tony, I don't want to see him," she complained. "Besides, I hate giving up my commercial. This is the pits." Angela looked out at the water, her expression wistful. "We were enjoying ourselves," she added.

"Yeah, that we were," he acknowledged with a fierce nod of his head. "And we're going to again. I promise you that. But I'm feeling really unsettled here." Tony sat down beside her and put his arm around her bare shoulders. He could feel that she was chilled despite the strong sunshine beating down on them. "I'm here for you, Angela." He uttered the words quietly but with conviction and squeezed her against him. "I'm with you in this."

"I know and I'm grateful," she replied, finally meeting his eyes. "But if it's alright with you, I'd prefer to deal with Paolo at the _Duro Maio_ headquarters. Returning to his villa bothers me … I don't want to." She shivered and snuggled closer to Tony's damp chest.

"Angela, did somethin' happen there? I mean besides the fact that Paolo wouldn't let you make a phone call or leave?"

"Uh …"

"Uh, what?" he probed.

"You know, it was probably just a misunderstanding because of cultural differences," she began. She sat up straight and nudged Tony's arm off her shoulders, her posture tense and rigid.

"What was? Just tell me."

Angela stood up and turned her back to Tony. She stared at the ocean when she spoke. "Paolo swims naked. I interrupted his swim to discuss the proposed merger papers and he …" she trailed off.

"And he what?" Tony stood up and came alongside her, mindful of her need for space.

"He came out of the pool."

"Naked?"

"Yes. Then I closed my eyes and threw him his towel. Afterwards, he told me that it was safe to look."

"And?"

"He was still naked. He wanted me to join him." Angela shuddered at the memory. She'd run back into the villa and locked herself in her bedroom, before Paolo had come looking for her. She still couldn't understand how he'd twisted her words and elicited an apology from her. She wondered why her brain only functioned at half-mast each time she argued with Paolo. A good comeback usually came to mind several hours later, but while in his presence, she lost the ability to defend herself against his accusations and explanations.

"I'm gonna kill him!" Tony said.

* * *

When they returned to the hotel, Angela dressed herself in the same business outfit she'd worn the previous day. After brushing the sand off her feet and washing the scent of coconut sunscreen from her hands, putting on her work clothes felt a bit weird. She'd turned her vacation switch on, something she'd learned to do a couple of years ago in Mexico. Tony had taught her that—how to let go of work's worries and simply enjoy the moment. She hadn't, however, learned to make the smooth transition back. She felt frazzled, and the somersaults in her tummy weren't helping at all.

"You almost ready?" Tony asked her through the bathroom door.

Angela stepped out of the bathroom, clearly unsettled. Tony noticed an almost imperceptible tremor in her hands.

"Hey," he said, "it's gonna be okay." He took her cold hands in his and gently stroked the back of them until they were steady and warm in his. Then he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and fixed his eyes on hers. "I'll be here every step of the way, okay?"

His warm, reassuring manner made Angela want to melt at his feet. Everything about Tony was so comforting and safe. She drew strength and courage from him, and when his hand touched her hair, invisible sparks flew between them, igniting last night's embers. Angela mirrored his movements and gently threaded her fingers through the hair above his left ear. It was still damp with seawater and he carried the scent of the outdoors on him. Her heart beat faster. "Tony, if you hadn't come to Brazil with me, I don't know what I would have done."

"I knew I had to come, Angela. I _knew_ Paolo was trouble from day one and I didn't want to see you get hurt. When he took you away to his house and I couldn't follow, I got scared. Can't believe that bastard exposed himself to you! When I think of how he treated you, it makes me wanna, wanna …"

"Want to what, Tony?"

"Beat the living daylights out of him!"

"Oh Tony, that's so sweet. You'd defend my honour."

"You bet. I'd do anything for you, Angela. Anything."

"I believe you."

They continued to gaze at each other, not breaking eye contact as they usually did. Their desire hung in the space between them, alive and vibrant. One would be hard pressed to determine who kissed whom, for their faces came together in sync, as though helped along by an invisible force. The still-warm embers ignited and blazed fiercely when their lips met. Stunned, they paused to step back. Their eyes, now half-lidded with passion met yet again. This time, Tony put his hands on Angela's shoulders and pulled her toward him. His kiss expressed all of the pent-up desire and longing that had built up within him over the years. She responded and yielded to her passion and love for him. For that moment, they were outside of time and space, existing only in each other. Their lips moved together as though designed for the other. Where he ended, she began. Only the woeful need for oxygen ended their kiss, leaving them gasping and taking deep, ragged breaths.

"Whoa," Tony muttered. He'd never experienced a kiss so raw and powerful in his entire life.

"Again," Angela whispered. "Kiss me again." Tony's kiss had reached the deepest essence of her being—a mingling of souls, not just mouths. She felt trembly all over and her skin prickled with excitement. She wound her arms around his neck and tilted her head back. Tony kissed her again and again for what seemed like an eternity that was too short.

"I could keep kissing you all afternoon," Tony murmured into her ear between kisses.

"Sounds wonderful," she said with a soft sigh.

"But we have to go."

"Go where? We're already in the bedroom." Her legs felt ready to collapse and she inched backwards toward the bed, lips still attached to Tony's. When he abruptly ended the kiss, she stood bereft and confused. "What's wrong?" She collapsed heavily onto the edge of the bed feeling somewhat abandoned. "Tony? Is everything alright?"

"It will be, Angela. It will be, as soon as we take care of business. We really need to do that today." He hated breaking their kiss, but he also knew where that kiss was leading, and he wasn't ready to go that far with her yet, especially with something so dire hanging over her head. "Let's deal with Paolo now, so that later we can, ahem, we can, er … continue _this_."

"Oh."

"It's the best way."

"I know. It's just that your kiss—it made me forget about everything. I lost myself to it," she admitted, suddenly feeling shy.

"I was lost right there with you." Tony smiled and held out his hand to her, then pulled her up to stand before him. He placed one final tender kiss on her mouth and held her close. "This bedroom will be waiting for us when we're done taking care of business."

Angela just stared at him, absorbing the implicit promise in his words. She nodded at him and squeezed his hand for strength. "Alright, let's get this over with."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_**A/N: Just a bit more to go … almost at the finish line. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope you're enjoying the story. **_

The taxi pulled up to the _Duro Maio_ offices, but Angela's legs refused to obey her and exit the cab. She steeled her nerves by envisioning the confrontation with Paolo over and done with. Then, she and Tony would be able to continue what they'd started in the hotel room a short time ago. She looked over at him and drew strength from his encouraging smile.

"You can do this, Angela. Come on, before you lose your nerve," he said. He paid the cabbie, took her hand in his and exited the cab, curbside, pulling her along with him.

"Who says I haven't already lost my nerve? Or that I ever had it?" Angela balked in front of the massive steel and glass tower. She felt dwarfed by it, insignificant.

"Then fake it. I'm sure you've been anxious in business meetings before, but I'll bet that none of those corporate hotshots ever knew it. You yourself told me that when you're nervous about giving a speech, you picture your audience naked. Maybe you could … uh … never mind." Tony clamped his hand over his mouth and muttered in Italian.

"Never mind, indeed! It's an image I'd rather forget." Angela blinked hard to stave off the offensive memory. She looked to Tony to erase it, and scanned his face as though trying to memorize every detail—the laugh lines, the thick eyebrows furrowed in concern, the uneven nose and best of all, his full, sensual mouth, which was still swollen from their kissing—and she closed her eyes consolidating his features in her mind's eye. "Alright, I'm ready," she declared suddenly. Despite the violent beating of her heart, and sweaty palms, she drew herself up straight and entered the building with Tony by her side.

Angela kept her focus on the time after the confrontation would be over. The Bower Agency would still belong to her, and her alone. Paolo would be out of her life for good. She'd retain full autonomy over all of her decisions, and perhaps she could use the _Rio_ song for another client. Okay, now she was thinking way too far ahead. Before any of those considerations, she considered the man standing next to her in the elevator. She was falling for him, unequivocally and completely. She quickly squeezed his fingers as they came up to the _Duro Maio_ foyer. The same receptionist greeted them without a smile this time.

"Good afternoon, _Senhora_ Bower. _Senhor_ Duro will see you in his office. He has been waiting for you." The thin brunette came out from behind her reception desk and briskly walked over to Angela. "Come with me."

"I know which one is his office," Angela replied, somewhat put off by the woman's terse manner, as well as her attempt to lead.

"He's asked me to escort you." The receptionist motioned with her hand and gave Angela a less than polite shove toward the corridor. Tony began to follow them.

"No. You stay here and wait." She faced Tony and put up her hand like a stop sign, then pointed to the waiting area. "This will be a private meeting. Wait over there. These are _Senhor_ Duro's orders."

Tony and Angela locked eyes, worried expressions mirroring each other. Tony hesitated, then took another step toward the women.

"I will call security if you do not sit down," the receptionist warned him now. The smiles she'd flashed him in previous visits were now replaced by a deep scowl.

"It's okay Tony. I won't be long," Angela reassured him. She took a step toward him but was whisked away by the stern, scowling woman. The last words she heard from Tony were, "I'll be right here waiting for you, Angela."

Paolo was alone in his office, waiting. He sat, leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the gleaming desk. It dominated the room now that Angela's small side desk had been removed. Angela felt a pang of anxiety when she noticed that her things were gone. She'd organized important business documents on that small work table. "Where are my things?" she blurted out.

"Your things? Those were not your things. They were all connected to my account. I removed them." Paolo swung his long legs off the desk and stood up, towering over Angela. "You have no things here."

"Yes, I do. I have my storyboard, my concept and other documents. They belong to the Bower Agency. I'd like them back please."

Paolo studied her but said nothing for a long moment. Then, he pulled out a low chair and patted it. "Sit down." Angela did not move—she did not appreciate being spoken to as a subordinate, or a dog.

"I'll stand."

"Suit yourself," he said. Paolo sat back in his elevated, leather chair and paged the receptionist to bring certain documents and coffee. "You will read and sign the papers to dissolve our contract," he began. "We will part as though we had never met."

"I see. In that case, I'd like my storyboard and all creative work returned to the Bower Agency. As well, my ideas are my intellectual property and may not be used by _Duro Maio_." Angela's legs felt a bit shaky so she sat in the chair that Paolo had offered her. It was small, like a child's chair and she had to sit up ramrod straight in order to reach the top of Paolo's desk. She was surprised that he wasn't more upset with her; he appeared outwardly calm.

"Very well," he replied in an even tone.

The receptionist entered then, with coffee and a large pile of documents. She poured two coffees, gave Paolo the papers and walked out. Paolo handed Angela a thick folder and directed her to read it. "Please read it carefully. When you are done, you may sign." He handed her a pen and waited for her to be distracted by her reading. Satisfied that she was engrossed and not paying attention to him, he discreetly slipped several small pills into her coffee.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asked her.

"Black with sugar," she answered, while not looking up from the paperwork in front of her. Paolo heaped a spoonful of sugar, then stirred the coffee until the tablets dissolved. He put the cup in front of her and waited for her to drink it.

Angela sipped at her coffee and continued reading. The documents were boring, containing plenty of legalese. She stifled a yawn and drank more of the coffee. "Are you sure these are the right papers? Where is the original contract that we signed in New York?"

"Let me find that. In the meantime, enjoy your coffee." Paolo excused himself and left Angela alone in his office. The barbiturate needed several minutes to fully take effect. He was sure that its sedative effects would be helped along by the exceedingly boring and long-winded documents he'd given her to read. None pertained to her, but she would be several pages in before she realized it, and by then, she'd be too drowsy to care. However, he needed to catch her before she completely passed out. He wanted her in a state of semi-wakeful sedation, responsive to suggestion. He waited about ten minutes then came in with the document he'd specially drawn up for the occasion. It was a modified version of the merger proposal, quite significantly modified in fact. It was a hostile takeover. And all he needed was Angela's signature. He entered his office and found her slumped over the desk. She'd knocked the papers off of his desk and they were scattered all over the floor. Paolo smiled.

"_Querida, querida_," he whispered into her ear. She sat up and looked at him in confusion.

"So sleepy," she mumbled. "Boring documents."

"I found the one we need!" Paolo said, loudly this time. He shoved his hands beneath her armpits and roughly pulled her up to a sitting position. Then, he stuck the pen in her hand. "Sign here my dear."

"Too sleepy," she complained. Angela tried to look at the paper that Paolo placed before her, but all she could see were letters swimming together. She blinked hard but still couldn't make sense of them. "Sign later," she said between yawns.

"No, you must sign now. Then you can sleep." Paolo pushed her torso back up when she began to slump against him. He slid the pen between her fingers and positioned her hand right above the signature line. "Put your name here. Now."

Angela did as she was told. She was too tired to care anymore. All she wanted was a soft pillow for her head. Sitting up required much too much effort. After scribbling her signature on the document, she closed her eyes, lay her head on the desk and succumbed to sleep.

Paolo grasped the precious documents away from her—a giggle of mirth escaped him. He put the papers in his safe and exhaled with relief when they were locked away. "The Bower Agency is mine," he declared. "You thought you could keep it away from me, you stupid _vaca._ Did you think you were better than me? A mere woman?" Paolo spoke to the sleeping figure before him and snorted in derision.

His plan was in place. He'd visualised its success numerous times, and he would succeed. First, he called the limo and ordered the driver to wait by the building's back exit. Then, he scooped Angela up into his arms as though she weighed nothing. Paolo was strong and tall—Angela was easy to carry, for she was light and unresponsive. He exited through the office's second door, the one that led to his private washroom. From there, he stepped out into the back hallway and down the stairwell. He'd have to carry her all the way down from the top floor. He was prepared. He tucked her unconscious form against his chest and kept his prize in mind. A New York advertising agency would be his. All his. He only needed to rid himself of this one obstacle. It was a shame, he thought, for she was a beautiful woman and he would have enjoyed her. He was definitely attracted to her physically, but his ultimate goal meant more to him. Having his foot firmly in the American market and owning a slice of Madison Avenue was worth more than a mere woman. Paolo had had women, many women and he found that they were quite interchangeable. Even Lucia, beautiful Lucia had not been too difficult to replace. He felt a tiny pang of remorse but brushed it off. Any beautiful woman in his bed would do. He would have liked to seduce the blond American woman in his arms, but that would not be necessary, for he would enjoy her before it was too late.

* * *

Tony checked his watch again. He'd been waiting for over an hour now and was anxious for Angela's return. He stood up and began to pace, then sigh. The receptionist glared at him, and he glared back. "What's taking so long?" he asked.

"I do not know," she replied, while not looking up from her computer.

Tony felt like a mosquito being swatted away.

"Could you page them?" he asked.

"No."

"No?"

"No." She glanced up from her computer and gave him a dirty look. "_Senhor Duro_ does not wish to be disturbed. Please wait."

Tony sat back down but his right leg wouldn't stop bouncing. He took deep breaths to calm himself but his nerves were jangled and his mind wouldn't stop racing. Angela. He could only think of Angela. He was in love with her, he knew now. He'd known for some time, but could finally acknowledge it to himself. Perhaps it was being away from home, and away from his housekeeping duties that enabled him to silently admit his love for her. That and he'd been so worried about her for days. He was still worried. Unable to sit a moment longer, Tony bolted out of his seat and down the corridor toward the offices.

"Come back!" the receptionist shouted after him. He heard her high heels clicking rapidly toward him.

Tony ran faster and collided with a young man. "I'm sorry," he said. He helped the young man to his feet. "Which one is Mr. Duro's office?" he asked.

"Why? Who are you?" the young man asked, suspicious. He pushed his crooked glasses back onto his face and straightened his suit jacket.

"I'm Angela Bower's friend. And I need to find her. Now!"

Esteban noted the urgency in the other man's voice as well as the panicked look on his face. "Alright, I'll take you to my father's office," he replied. "Follow me." Esteban shooed the receptionist away when she began to complain.

"Your father?"

"Yes, I am Esteban Duro, Paolo's son. I've worked quite a bit with your friend, Angela. She's a very smart lady. I am fond of her."

"Yeah me too," Tony replied. "And I'm worried. She's having a difficult meeting with your father. Angela doesn't want to merge her agency with _Duro Maio_. Your father isn't happy about it."

"Oh?" Esteban felt a surge of adrenaline. He knew about his father's reputation with women, and he truly liked Angela Bower. As such, he ran the last few steps to his father's office and knocked on the door, hard. There was no answer. He knocked again, harder and louder but still there was no answer. Finally, he tried the doorknob but it was locked.

"Ana, get me the master key, now!" he shouted down the hallway. A young woman heeded his call and arrived with the key. Esteban took it from her and opened the door.

"Where are they?" Tony asked. He noticed the papers lying all over the floor and Angela's purse still in the room. "Where are they?!" he shouted now.

Esteban blanched. "I don't know, but we had better find her. Now."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, guys. (been so busy and with the holidays, etc. . it's been a bit crazy) This story may be a bit longer than I had predicted. At least one more chapter after this. Happy New Year to you all! Thanks for reading and reviewing. **__** Oh, and I don't claim that I know how to write action scenes. If the one in this story sucks, my apologies. My genre is more romance, and young adult stuff. Action. . clueless. But hey, I tried. **_

Angela remained unconscious during the drive to Paolo's villa. When the limo pulled up in front of his home, Paolo grabbed his sleeping passenger in his arms, and dismissed the driver. When the limo had driven away, he heaved Angela over his shoulder and carried her to the back of his house and dumped her unceremoniously onto one of the lounging chairs by the pool. She didn't stir when her elbow bumped the armrest. He pulled up a matching lounge chair and sat next to her so he could think. He knew he could trust his limo driver, especially after paying him an extra month's salary in exchange for his silence. As for his housekeeper Dora, Paolo had already called to send her to a distant market to purchase hard-to-find ingredients. She'd be gone for hours. He was alone with Angela. He cast his eyes on her sleeping form, savouring her vulnerable state. Paolo's excitement was tinged with apprehension that he brusquely brushed aside. He didn't relish the task ahead, but he reminded himself of the stakes and sprinted inside to imbibe some liquid courage. He was at the finish line, and only needed to cross it. Not knowing how long the barbiturate would keep his victim completely sedated, Paolo knew that he had to act quickly. He downed two double shots of whiskey, and removed his tie and blazer, then rolled up his shirtsleeves. There was no room for error, but there was room for him to claim his reward. He deserved it, after all. So much work and effort had been involved in securing the Bower Agency. It was not his fault that the stupid American woman had rejected his generous merger proposal.

He returned to the place he'd left her, and sat at her feet. "You should have listened to me, _idiota,"_ he chastised her. "You could have been successful under me. Now it is too late for you. What a waste. Still young, and so _bonita_. It is a shame that we did not become lovers. I would have been good to you and lavished you with jewels, and expensive trips. I would have given you much pleasure in bed." He studied her face, noting the elegantly arched brows, high cheekbones and strong chin, and he shook his head. "_Idiota_," he hissed. His eyes roamed over her body, lingering over her breasts, hips and legs. "This is all your fault. You should have obeyed me, woman. Do you think I want to do this? It pains me to have to kill you, just as it pained me to kill Lucia. But she deserved it too. It is not fair to put me in this position. The stress, the inconvenience and complexity involved in such a task. It is not good for my heart—I'm not a young man anymore."

Paolo stood up and paced beside the pool to calm his nerves. He wiped his sweaty brow and gulped. "I need to relax," he shouted irritably. Angela stirred slightly at his loud voice. Paolo froze, struggling to remain calm. He knew it had to be now. The barbiturate wasn't going to last much longer. He knelt over her, his black eyes wild with turmoil and desire. "You never wore a _Duro Maio_," he said in a quiet, spine-chilling voice. "I want to give you one now," he told her. Paolo felt magnanimous. "It will be beautiful on you." He went inside to select the best bikini for her complexion. He felt sad about having to kill her, but he could offer her this one last act of generosity—his best design. She would die in beauty and elegance, for she was an elegant woman and he wouldn't have it any other way. His perceived kindness alleviated the gnawing disquiet within.

Angela opened one eye then shut it. She parted her parched lips and whispered, "water". Her head floated somewhere above her body and her limbs felt heavy and useless. She was conscious of her left leg sliding away from her, until her foot hit concrete. "Whaaa?" She tried to open her eyelids but they were so heavy. She dozed off again before she could make sense of her surroundings. When Paolo returned with his carefully chosen _Duro Maio_ bikini, he was unaware that she was beginning to come around.

"This is perfect for you, _querida_," he told her. He held the bikini out to her as though she could see it. The material was navy blue with bright gold suns scattered throughout. "The sun and the sea," he explained to her. "For you." He smiled at her, make-believing her side of the interaction, the part where she'd thank him profusely. "You're welcome, my dear," he replied to the imagined words. He wanted to see her in the bikini, but first, he wanted to take what was his, all his. "I will make love to you first, then dress you in this magnificent bikini," he told her. "See, I only want what's best for you. Before you leave me, let us enjoy one another." In his mind, Angela was agreeing with him and smiling at him. He remembered her generous smile and feminine laughter, and entertained them in his imagination. He was being good to her and she was thankful for it in his scenario.

With gentleness, he removed her shoes. Then, he slowly unbuttoned her silk blouse, careful not to disturb her when he lifted her toward him to slip it off. Next, he felt his way around to her back and unfastened her white cotton bra. Its lack of sophistication surprised him—he'd been expecting lace and as such was disappointed. "Such plain undergarments," he scoffed at the offending article of clothing before tossing it away. He heard her moan and froze in place, hand poised above her exposed breasts. Her eyes remained closed and he relaxed. "Aaaah, yes," he sighed, when his hand reached the treasured prize. He cupped her breasts in his large hands and fondled their perfect soft roundness. "_Delicado_," he whispered in reverence. He hesitated for a moment as though debating with himself, then nodded as he pulled down her skirt and yanked at her pantyhose and panties, discarding them on the ground beside her. "Perfeito," he breathed against her. He stared, besotted by the flawless beauty before him. She had the long lean build of a fashion model, without the gauntness. Instead of sharp edges, she had gentle curves. He caressed her hips and belly, pausing to linger over this bit and that, saving the best for last until his own arousal could no longer be ignored. "I will make love to you before you depart," he cried. He stood up and unfastened his belt buckle.

"Papa, no! _Parar_, stop!" exclaimed Esteban in horrified outrage.

Paolo's head snapped back at the sound of his son's voice. He whipped around and gaped, for both Esteban and the man-maid were running toward him. His prize was slipping away from him. "No! No, she is mine now," he screamed. He scooped Angela up into his arms, a crazed look on his face. "Stay away from me."

"Put her down!" demanded Tony. He took a step toward Paolo, and Paolo took a step toward the pool. Tony stopped, unsure what to do. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life and he'd never wanted to kill somebody so badly. "What did you do to her?" he cried. Angela's nude body was motionless and Tony feared the worst. He gagged on his own bile.

Angela heard Tony's voice and moaned. Paolo held onto her with more force and stepped up to the edge of the pool. She began to stir within his solid grip, sensing danger despite the powerful sedative. She felt cold and couldn't move.

Tony staggered forward, relieved to see that she was alive, but still terrified for her. "Put her down. Just put her down, please," he begged. Paolo's wide maniacal eyes frightened him—a deranged man backed into a corner was capable of anything. "If you put her down, you can walk away, just walk away," Tony pleaded.

Angela opened her eyes halfway and groaned. She appeared confused in her lethargy, yet instinctively sensed that her life was in danger. She groaned again, more loudly this time, and flailed her legs. Tony wanted to reach her, desperately. She was so defenceless and exposed. That Paolo had stripped her of her clothing and was planning to rape her, made Tony want to kill him all the more! He was thankful to have arrived in the nick of time. Right now, however, he needed to proceed with caution because the man before him was clearly unhinged.

"You are a nobody," Paolo shouted. "You are _the help_. Did this woman debase herself so to sleep with you?"

Tony was temporarily struck dumb by the disgusting question and took two steps toward Paolo and Angela. "Give her to me." Tony held his arms out, only inches away from Angela. He caught her eye and held her sleepy gaze for a moment, before her lids fell closed again. In that moment, he saw her fear and knew that she'd seen his as well. He could not lose her now. In a last desperate attempt, Tony grabbed for her but Paolo was quicker because of his intense panic. With no preamble, he threw the semi-conscious woman into the pool.

Tony cried: "Oh no!" and didn't think—he simply reacted, and jumped into the pool after her, forgetting that he could not swim. He flailed uselessly in the water, sinking and sputtering a few feet away from her. He saw that she was awake now and called to her, "Angela, float. Float, Angela. Tread water!"

The shock of the cold water gave Angela some of her vigour back. She frantically began kicking her legs and arms, helped by the buoyancy of the water. But the barbiturate was still heavily in her system and she had trouble keeping her head up. She slipped beneath the surface numerous times, choking on water, and wildly fighting her way to the top for breath. She looked over at Tony and saw that he was having a terrible time, thrashing and sputtering in the deep water. "Tony," she gasped between violent coughs, "try to float." She was weak and exhausted but he needed her help. She used every last ounce of strength to inch her body toward his.

He was terrified and starting to sink but she needed his help. His greatest fear was no longer drowning. His greatest fear was losing Angela. If he drowned saving her, then so be it, he told himself. Sublimating his terror, he moved toward her, head half-submerged beneath the water. He swallowed several mouthfuls of pool water but would not be deterred from saving her. They met in the middle and he wrapped his arms around her, careful not to sink her. Tony copied Angela's movements, and she relied on his strength. Together, they made it to the shallow end and collapsed on the pool's steps, coughing and gulping.

"You saved my life," they said in unison.

"Angela," he cried. He pulled her against him and stroked her wet hair.

"Oh Tony," she sobbed into his chest, seeking comfort there. The tears poured out of her, tears of fear, humiliation and tears of love. His arms were tightly around her but she felt cold and exposed. And afraid. "Where's Paolo?" she asked.

Tony's body went rigid. He was so relieved to have her safely out of the pool that he'd forgotten about their overall safety. Paolo was crazy and homicidal, and no longer by the pool.

* * *

After chasing his father through the villa, Esteban now held his father in a stronghold but his grip was beginning to falter. He was shorter and weaker than the older man. His rage, however, gave him strength. "Did you drug Lucia too?" he shouted at his father. "Did you drown her?"

"Lucia was a whore!" Paolo spat.

"No, Papa, she wasn't! We loved each other."

"What?" Paolo struggled free and shoved his son to the floor. "She was mine! I saved her from the favelas and made her who she was. I gave her fame and fortune."

"You exploited her and forced her to be your plaything. She hated you!" Esteban screamed. "She loved me."

"No … no … no!" Paolo shook his head violently and kicked Esteban in the ribs. "She was going to move to America to be with her lover."

"That was me, Papa! We needed to get away from you, make a fresh start. Oh my god, you killed her," he realized. "You killed my fiancée because you couldn't have her for yourself. And you tried to kill Angela Bower. Angela!" Esteban stood up and pushed his father away. He'd been so intent on catching Paolo, but the fate of the American businesswoman was more important than revenge, at least for the time being. He sprinted back to the pool, heedless of the sharp pain in his side where his father had kicked him. Paolo was at his heels.

Esteban reached the pool and saw Tony and Angela sitting on the pool steps, clinging to each other and shivering. He flung them a towel from the clean, folded pile by the lounge chairs.

He turned around to face his father. "You're a murderer," he accused.

"You'll never be able to prove it," Paolo said. "Lucia was stupid enough to go for a midnight swim by herself. She hit her head and drowned. That's what the coroner's report says."

"Or you knocked her unconscious and threw her into the pool!" Esteban turned to Tony. "Call the police, now. I'll hold him here."

"Code … can't remember the code," Angela whispered, then swore under her breath. She was still so sleepy and now that Tony had wrapped the soft towel around her, she had stopped shaking.

"I won't let you get away with this," Esteban told his father. "Two three six four!" he shouted at Tony. Dial that, then the operator for the police. "You and your damned phone codes," he sneered at Paolo. "Were you keeping Angela against her will too? Like you did to Lucia?" He didn't wait for an answer. He threw himself against his father with all his strength, managing to knock the taller man to the ground. He began to pummel him relentlessly, giving Tony and Angela a chance to escape into the house unnoticed.

Paolo was strong and he was scared. His deepest secrets were being revealed, and the Bower woman would provide testimony against him. He would be ruined. He needed to silence them all, including his own son. Using moves he'd learned in Judo, he threw his son off of him and punched him in the face, hard. Blood spurted from Esteban's broken nose. He stood up and a wave of dizziness engulfed him. "You want to have a swim, son?" Paolo asked him. He shoved his son toward the pool but Esteban shoved back. Paolo lashed out at him, "You stole my woman!" He lunged for him, but Esteban dodged the next blow. Paolo lost his balance, and stumbled. Esteban head butted his father in the stomach, causing him to fall over. Paolo roared in outrage and pain and grabbed his son's head, shaking it violently. "I'm going to kill you too!" he screamed. "You can be with your precious Lucia—you both deserve to die for betraying me!"

The gate opened and the police arrived. They'd heard every single one of Paolo's words.

* * *

After being checked out at the hospital, and giving their statements to the police, Tony and Angela returned to their hotel room at the Marriott. They had all of Angela's things with them, including her passport and luggage.

"I need a shower!" she exclaimed when Tony opened the door for her.

"Really? Personally, I'd like to stay dry for the time being. Nearly drowning has that effect on me." Tony tried to lighten the mood, but Angela remained stiff beside him, head downcast.

"I feel dirty," she complained. "After what he did to me."

"He didn't, er, he didn't manage to do what he wanted," Tony reminded her. "The doctors confirmed it for you, didn't they?"

"Yes." Angela shuddered. The hospital physical examination had been almost as humiliating as waking up stripped of her clothing.

"You're not dirty," he insisted. "He never got to …"

She interrupted him angrily, "I don't know what he did! He took my clothes off, Tony! He was planning to rape me. For all I know, he touched me everywhere." She burst into tears and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Tony heard the shower running and decided to let her be, for now. She needed space.

Tony paced the room while Angela was in the shower. He fretted as he wore a path through the lush carpet between the bed and the window. It was dark out now, and he couldn't see the ocean. He closed the curtains to the world, wanting to hide Angela and keep her safe from predators. Every few moments, a deep rage would well up within him. Paolo had tried to kill the woman he loved. He'd molested her, and humiliated her. The fact that Paolo had been arrested for murder and attempted murder didn't alleviate Tony's wrath. He punched the bed but the softness of the mattress wasn't satisfying. He made a fist and aimed for the wall, throwing his entire body into the punch. Pain exploded through his hand and wrist and he cried out. "Idiot, Micelli," he chided himself, feeling completely helpless now. The fear, stress and exhaustion of the day caught up with him, and he collapsed onto the bed, cradling his injured hand. A large sob escaped him, then another one, until he was powerless to stop them. He heard an answering cry in the bathroom, and stopped to listen. Deep, ragged primal cries echoed from the shower. He followed the sounds, pausing for a moment when he heard a scream of outrage.

"Angela?" he asked. He knocked at the bathroom door but the only answer was her crying. He opened the door and spoke to her through the shower curtain. "Ay-oh, are you okay?" When she didn't answer him, he tugged at the shower curtain, pulling it to the side. She lay crouched and shivering on the bottom of the tub beneath the shower spray, sobbing. Tony turned off the now cold water and knelt beside the tub. "It's time to come out now, Angela. Come on." He held his good hand out to her and she grasped it.

"Help me," she said. "Please."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Angela held onto Tony's powerful arm for support and allowed him to pull her out of the tub. She stood dejected and dripping on the floor mat not caring that she was naked, for she trusted him. She was grateful for this new level of familiarity with him, and for his reassuring presence, but she still felt dirty even after the long shower. Her teeth chattered and she continued to stare at the floor when he wrapped a fluffy white towel around her.

"You're frozen," he said. "Come here." Tony wrapped his arms around her towelled body and began gently rubbing her arms and back through the terrycloth. Angela sagged against him, leaning her head on his shoulder while he continued warming her up with his good hand. "Are you warming up a bit?" Deep concern shone through his dark eyes.

She gave a slight nod of her head and continued looking away from him. She wanted to vanish, simply disappear. That she had no recollection of what Paolo had done to her while she was unconscious made her feel ill and anxious. "I'm such an idiot," she moaned.

"What? Why?" Tony looked at her incredulously.

"Because I trusted him, Tony. I blindly believed him, followed him to Brazil, ignored my instincts and became trapped in that damned villa! Couldn't see past my own ambition." She sniffled and swiped at her tears with the edge of the towel.

"No! Angela, you can't look at it that way. Having ambition isn't a bad thing—the Bower Agency's survival depends on it. You … you're trusting and honest. He took advantage of that. He's to blame in all of this, not you." Tony took a deep breath before continuing. "I should have ignored his receptionist and insisted on following you into his office. That's what I wanted to do. God, I can't believe that he drugged you!" Tony felt like punching something again but the painful throb in his right hand quietly rebuked him.

"They were in the coffee he gave me. I should have known better than to accept a drink from such a malevolent man," she said. "I'm still feeling a bit woozy from all those drugs in my system. Need to lie down." She let Tony lead her to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in the plush towel. "Can you please find my pink pyjamas? They're in my suitcase."

Tony stood up and rummaged in her case, wincing at the pain in his hand. He dug out the pink satin PJ's and brought them to her.

"What did you do to your hand?" she asked when she noticed how red and swollen it had become.

"I punched the wall while picturing Paolo's face."

"Oh, no, Tony no." She gently took his injured hand in her own to examine it. "Is it broken?"

"I don't think so." Tony flinched when Angela touched his pinky finger. "Just badly bruised. Hurts like a bi_ …never mind." She eased her touch and brought his hand up to her lips, placing a tender kiss upon it.

"I wish I could make it all better," she said.

She looked into his eyes and saw her own sorrow reflected there. The redness in his eyes told her that he'd been crying too, crying for her. She stroked his cheek and thanked him yet again for jumping into the pool to save her. She'd already thanked him profusely prior to their return to the hotel, but the words seemed trite compared to the gratitude she felt.

"I'd do it all over again, ya know, well except I'd kick off my shoes first," he told her.

"You could have drowned," she reminded him for the umpteenth time that day.

Instead of shrugging off the comment as he'd done before, he decided to tell her the truth. "Yeah, and I thought I might. To die saving you would have been okay with me, Angela. 'Cause you matter more to me than …"

"Than what, Tony? Your own life?"

"Well … yeah."

She responded to his admission with a gasp and soft cry. Her chin began to tremble as the poignancy of his words settled into her spirit. "No wonder I've fallen for you," she replied. She flung her arms around him and buried her face in his warm neck, savouring the feel of him, the security of his strength.

"We've fallen for each other, Angela," he whispered into her hair. He stroked the soft nape of her neck and placed a kiss on her temple. They stayed fused together for some time, not speaking. After a bit, he said: "You should eat something, then go to sleep. I'm gonna call room service."

"Not hungry," she replied, still pressed into his neck. "Only sleepy. If you're hungry, go ahead and order something. Maybe get some ice for your hand too," she added.

"I will. Um, Ang? The phone is over there. And your PJ's are over here. Maybe you should put 'em on? Get warm."

"I am warm. Here, with you." With great reluctance, she pulled away from him and sat up straight. She felt lightheaded from the combination of fatigue, drugs and the conversation they'd just had, and only wanted to remain pressed up against him forever. The agony of the day receded when his arms were around her.

She changed into her pink pajamas, feeling completely at ease in Tony's presence while she did so. He averted his eyes to afford her some privacy but knew that this no longer mattered between them. They'd crossed a new threshold of intimacy and there was no turning back from it. He picked up her wet towel and hung it in the bathroom. "Sit down and rest," he told her.

A short time later, room service arrived along with an ice-pack for Tony's hand. He tucked away his cheeseburger with one hand and kept the other wrapped in ice. Angela sat next to him and nibbled at his French fries.

"Want a bite of my burger?" he asked her. But she shook her head and took another fry. "The fries are fine. I'm going to bed." She paused and sought his eyes before adding, "Goodnight, Tony."

Angela stood and walked toward the bedroom, pausing in the doorframe staring at him. She wanted to ask him to stay with her and hold her during the night, but she didn't dare. He needed his rest too and he'd done too much for her already. She gave him a small wave and shut the door between them.

Angela collapsed into the large bed. She closed her eyes, succumbing to the leftover barbiturate in her system. Before long, she began dreaming that she was drowning, unable to keep her head above water. Tony was drowning too and she couldn't reach him because Paolo blocked her way. In her dream she was naked and Paolo reached out to grab her breasts. She woke up screaming.

Tony rushed into the room when he heard her. She'd only been in bed for half an hour, so he was still awake, and had been watching TV to distract himself.

"Hey, hey, shhhh, it's okay. You had a bad dream." He sat on the edge of the bed and patted her shoulder.

Her heart was pounding in her chest and a cold sweat had broken along her back. She shuddered and burrowed more deeply beneath the covers. "We were drowning," she told him.

"You're safe now, Angela. It's okay." Tony lifted the covers and lay down beside her. He tucked in his legs and scooted closely to her. Her breathing was rapid and he could feel her accelerated heartbeat wildly pounding against his chest. "We're not drowning. We're safe," he murmured into her ear. He wound his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him, willing her to relax.

Angela held onto him as though her very life still depended on it. She was awake now, but the sensation of drowning hadn't fully left her. She was also now quite sure that Paolo had fondled her breasts, a vague, half-memory of it dawning now. "I'm afraid to go back to sleep and have more nightmares like that," she whispered, her voice filled with dread.

"If you do, I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere," he reassured her. True to his word, he stayed with her all night. Each time she cried out in her sleep or woke up, he put his calming arms around her, or rubbed her back and stroked her hair until she fell asleep again. His own dreams were a whirlwind of nightmarish images—not being able to save Angela from drowning or from Paolo's clutches—accompanied by a horrific sensation of helplessness and fear. They both slept fitfully, comforting each other in turn and seeking solace in the other. Several times in the night, he touched her arm or shoulder to reassure himself that she was indeed safe. At least in body. He knew she was suffering inside, and he fervently wished that he could reach those depths in her psyche and provide a balm to her feelings, dreams and thoughts.

They woke up the next morning, still clinging to each other as they had done in sleep. "I'm not gonna ask you how you slept, 'cause I already know," he said.

"Thank you for staying," she replied and squeezed his good hand. "How's your hand?"

"Still hurts. But compared to what you've been dreaming and going through, it's nothin'."

She lifted the covers and gently lifted his injured hand and cradled it against her breasts. They stayed like that for some time, snuggling until the call of nature forced them to get up.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked her. "We've got three days left on the room, but if you want to go home early, I completely understand."

"No, I'm not ready to go home."

"You're not?"

"And face Mother and my employees? How am I going to explain this to them? The account, Paolo, all of it?" She looked up at him with wide, anxious eyes. "And the kids. Tony, what do I tell the children? I can't tell them about what happened to me! It's too humiliating!"

Tony pondered his thoughts, then said: "Call Mona and tell her the truth. She's your mother. Let her deal with the employees. As for the children, I don't think they need details."

"And about staying the remaining three days?" she asked. "I really don't feel ready to return to the stress of everyday life. I feel safe in this hotel room with you. And_," she broke off.

"And what?"

"And, I don't know when I'll feel safe sleeping alone again. You holding me last night was the only thing that kept me from going over the edge. Especially when I remembered that Paolo, er, touched me."

"Oh my god. You're sure?" Tony clenched his fists, then gasped when the pain in his wounded hand shot through his arm.

"Quite sure. I couldn't have imagined that. Yes, I was semi-conscious when it happened, but I was starting to come around. I remember his hands on me." With those words, she bolted into the bathroom and jumped into the shower.

Tony waited. He waited and grew worried again. Then he let himself into the steamy bathroom and talked to her through the shower curtain. "You're not gonna stay in there for an hour again, are you?"

"No."

"Angela, maybe you need to talk to somebody, like a shrink. You've got one, dontcha?"

"Yes."

"And Angela? If you still don't feel safe sleeping alone when we get home, it's okay."

"How is it okay?" She peeked her head out of the shower curtain to look at him. "After last night's nightmares, I dread going to sleep."

"'Cause I'm not gonna let you. Last night—we needed each other."

"How's that going to work when we get home?" she asked.

"Well, I think that, um, that there'll be some changes when we get home. Changes in our relationship, like, like me bein' in here during your shower for example. We admitted our feelings, and that kiss yesterday was, was wow. Plus we just spent the night together, even if not in the traditional sense."

"What are you saying, Tony?"

"I'm not sure what I'm saying, Angela. Maybe I'm saying that I love you and want to be with you. And after almost losing you, there's no way I'll ever take that risk again."

He walked over to her and leaned his face close to hers, then pressed his lips to her lips, heedless of the running water. "When we get home, we're gonna have to have a talk with the family. 'Cause there's no way that I'm gonna leave you alone to your nightmares, or that I want to be alone with mine."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

After he'd kissed her a second time, he pulled back to study her reaction to his words. Her eyelids remained half closed, and she didn't move. Water began spraying out of the small gap in the shower curtain, where her grip had gone lax.

"Angela? You alright there?"

Her eyes flew open. "What kind of changes are you talking about?"

"Significant changes," he said with no further explanation. "I'm hoping we can explore some of those changes. Before we go home?"

She nodded. "We could explore some now," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You held me all night during my nightmares—I feel safer and calmer when I'm with you."

"What did you, uh, have in mind?" he asked, his voice an octave higher than normal. He averted his eyes from the ever growing gap in the shower curtain. "Floor's gettin' soaked!" he exclaimed suddenly, desperate for a distraction from her glossy, wet skin.

"Oh!" Angela pulled the shower curtain closed and tried to steady her breathing.

"We could use some fresh air," Tony said. His lungs were begging for deep gulps of oxygen, and his body needed release from its all-over tension, sexual and otherwise. He longed to run along the beach. "How 'bout we return to the beach?"

"You mean swim?" She was unable to keep the horror out of her voice.

"No, we can just walk along the sand, dip our toes, and _only our toes_ in the water. We'll stay dry, promise. As God is my witness, Angela, I'll never go swimming again, or even take a bath for that matter. From now on, I'm a shower man."

"Shower man, huh?" She was silent for a few moments before adding, "Staying on the sand sounds doable. I'll finish up in here and we can head out shortly."

* * *

The bright sun greeted them as they made their way along the beach, meandering on the water's edge, collecting pretty seashells. Angela was wearing a much more conservative one-piece bathing suit, the one she'd packed for herself, an industrial strength, up to the neck, breast flattening Speedo. Tony couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment, but he respected her feelings of vulnerability and her need to cover up. He was protective of her and glared at any man who looked at her, a fact that did not escape her notice.

"I'm not going to melt if a man glances my way, Tony," she assured him.

"Just lookin' out for you, Ang. You know I am."

"I know. And I appreciate it, especially after yesterday's events. I really do." She stopped walking and stood before him. "I feel safe with you, Tony. When I'm with you, I can truly be myself." She smiled at him and placed a hand on his firm chest.

"Are you saying that you can't always be yourself?"

"It's hard for me sometimes, in the corporate world. I have to be tough, but more often than not, it's an act. The same thing goes when I'm with members of the PTA. You're the parent who knows everything that's going on, and I feel like an interloper at those meetings. It's like every other mom is more in the know than me."

"You're not an interloper, Angela. You're a good mother, with a meaningful connection to our kids! They know you love them, and they love you back."

"_Our kids_. I like the sound of that," she said with a smile.

"Well they are. We're raising them together and you've been real good to Sam, like a mom. I meant what I said to you when I was going in for my appendectomy—if anything ever happened to me, I'd want you to take care of Sam. She'd be happiest with you."

"Oh Tony, of course. Same goes for Jonathan, well unless Michael made a claim. Unfortunately, he'd have that right, even if he is the most selfish jerk on the planet and doesn't have a clue about his son's life." She shook her head sadly. "How did we get on this topic anyway?"

"You can be yourself with me," he reminded her.

"Right."

"I like who you are." He grinned at her and put his hand over hers, the one that remained pressed against his chest. "And I really did mean what I said before that appendectomy. Not just the part about Sam either."

"Oh?" Her lips parted in surprise and she leaned in closer to him.

"I told you I loved you. I did then, and I still do."

"Tony, that was almost three years ago! You … you've loved me all that time?" she gasped.

"Yeah, Angela. But there wasn't much I could do about it, was there? As your housekeeper?" A look of vague discontent settled over his handsome features.

"You still are my housekeeper, but it doesn't seem to be bothering you as much today. You're being honest with your feelings now." Angela wrinkled her brow in confusion.

"Yeah but …" Tony blew out the breath he'd been holding in so tightly. "I can't hide it anymore. I can't. Angela, I almost lost you, forever. How the hell can I go back to pretending that I only feel friendship for you? 'Cause any way I look at it, that's a loss too. A loss of time we could be together." He put his arms around her and held her close. "Ay-oh, oh-ay, we've fallen for each other, remember?"

"Uh huh," she whispered. Angela leaned her cheek against Tony's warm, hard shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I've absolutely fallen for you."

"Yesterday?" he asked, assuming that was the case.

"No, not yesterday," she snickered.

"What's so funny? If not yesterday, when?"

"The night of your appendectomy. That's when the realization hit me full force. Before then, the falling for you was happening, but I was somewhat unaware. I thought I only had a crush on you."

"You were crushing on me?"

"No, Tony. I wasn't crushing on you. I was falling for you. I fell for you, hard. And I realized it while you were in the hospital getting your appendix out. But when I returned to the hospital and you pretended not to remember your own words… well, I wasn't going to hold you to them."

"I was such an idiot," he moaned. "Angela, if I'd come out and admitted it, what would you have done?"

"Probably this." Angela unwound her arms from Tony's waist and moved to cup his face in her hands. With an expression of absolute lovelorn devotion, she brought her face close to his and kissed his mouth. She drew back to look at him, delighted to note that he was flushed and smiling. "And maybe another one like this," she said with a mischievous grin. This time, she angled her head and parted her lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss. They clung to one another and continued kissing. She broke it off first and looked around the beach in embarrassment—the other beachgoers were gawking at them in fascination. "Look Tony, we're drawing attention to ourselves."

"What? They've never seen two people kissin'? Come 'ere," he said. He grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction of several large boulders, all of them taller than himself. "I think we'll have a bit more privacy over here." Tony sat in the sand, leaning against the boulder, and gestured for Angela to sit beside him. She shook her head and crouched over his lap. He nodded at her implied request and raised his knees, so she could sit atop his bent thighs. "Like that, huh?"

"It's a better position for what I have in mind, "she replied with a smile. She leaned forward, pressing her tummy against his and began to kiss his neck. His arms wrapped around her back, stroking the skin not covered by her bathing suit. His mouth sought her neck while she continued to lavish his with attention. He alternately licked and kissed the tender skin behind her ear, then moved to her earlobes. She copied his moves and revisited Tony's actions upon him while restlessly moving her body against him. Their close proximity made it impossible for him to conceal his arousal.

"Angela, oh my god …" he whimpered and kissed her roughly, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth, hard. Then he pulled away, flushed and frustrated. "We should stop, or I'm not gonna be able to."

She sat up and crossed her arms, looking away from him.

"How are you doing, Angela? After yesterday? I hesitate to touch you because of what Paolo did to you."

"Yet you're the one who saved me," she stated. "The only thing is that I still don't feel very clean. He touched my breasts."

"Poor breasts. I feel tremendous compassion for them Angela."

"Do you?" she asked, intrigued now. "Tony, would you be okay in shallow water? The shallow water behind this boulder, where nobody can see us?"

"Depends … on what you want to do in the water."

"I want to feel clean. Can you help me feel clean again?" She propped herself on her elbows and gave him a beseeching look.

"How? How can I do that?" Oh, he wanted to. He desperately wanted her to feel good again.

"Wash him off. I can't wash him off, no matter how many showers I take. The memory of his hands on me … oh Tony." She stifled a tiny sob and hid her face in the crook of his neck.

"You want me to wash you?"

"Yes, wash him off. Erase him. I want your touch to erase his. Please Tony."

"Far be it from me to not respect a lady's wishes." He stroked her hair and gently kissed her. Then, he stood and held his hand out to her. "Let's go into the water. Shallow water only though, right?!"

She nodded and followed him into the gentle surf. "We have privacy here," she said, glancing around at their surroundings. They were quite a distance from the hotel beach area and the smooth sand had given way to rocky pebbles, where tourists didn't want to hurt their feet. Tony and Angela were more concerned about being in water than they were about stepping on small rocks. They held hands and walked together toward the water's edge. Tony felt nervous, both about the water and about his ability to do what Angela asked of him. What if he couldn't make her feel better? What if he disappointed her? What if a huge wave came and drowned them both? "Ok, that's far enough!" he exclaimed, when the water reached his waist.

"It's okay. The tide is low … we're perfectly safe," she reassured him. "I'm feeling a bit nervous about water myself," she added.

"Yeah, almost drowning will do that to a person, Angela."

"That you almost drowned saving me,_ ooooh_. I love you. I love you so much, Tony." She squeezed him tightly and kissed him. "I love you, I love you, I love you," she repeated again and again, until it sounded like a holy mantra. She began crying against him, overwhelmed by feelings of gratitude and affection.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I love you too." He held her until her sobs subsided. "Is now okay?"

"Yes." She looked around to ensure their privacy once again, then quickly pulled down the straps of her bathing suit. The dark material floated at her waist, leaving her pale breasts exposed. Tony stared at her bewitched by the pure alabaster skin, and her well-made body. Her pert breasts were perfectly shaped like champagne coupes, and Tony had an overwhelming desire to put his mouth to them. With reverence and awe, he scooped some seawater and poured it over one breast, then the other. He tenderly caressed each breast and held them in his hands, the most precious of jewels. "You're beautiful," he told her. "Perfect."

"I don't have much …" she began, but he cut her off.

"A handful is enough. God, you feel so soft, so smooth and delicate." He bent down to kiss each breast, savouring the feel of her sensitive skin against his lips. He could see the effect his mouth had on them, and he covered one of the taut peaks with his mouth. "Is this okay?" he asked her.

"Uh huh," she moaned.

"Do you feel cleaner now?" he asked.

"Yes Tony. Yesss, your touch is erasing his. Your mouth is … ooooh …" she moaned. The warmth of his tongue on her nipples descended in a straight line down her body to the centre of her womanhood. She began to squirm in his arms.

"We better stop," he said with great reluctance, after pulling his lips off of her. He scooped some more seawater over her breasts causing her to tense at the cold water replacing his hot mouth. "Sorry," he said, "but Ang, we've gotta stop. We can't keep going until we talk more about things."

"So talk," she said, frustration evident in her tone.

"I want you."

"That's obvious." She looked down at the huge bulge in his shorts.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Tony shifted slightly away from her and stared into the sun, admiring its reflection over the water. He needed to regulate his thoughts and bring his body back under control.

"I'm not sorry," she said. "Actually, I'm flattered. And … I feel the same way." She whispered something into his ear and smiled at the deep blush that crept over his neck and face.

"Oh boy, Angela, you're gonna be the end of me if you tell me that stuff! Holy smokes!" He stared at her, beguiled and fascinated. "You are? For me?"

"Often. Tony, maybe we should go back to the room. Sooner rather than later?" She put her arms around him and pressed her breasts against his chest. "This feels nice." She relished the feel of skin against skin, and the cold water lapping between them. It made her want to snuggle with him even harder.

"Well here's the problem Angela …"

"There's a problem?" she interrupted. "Tony, I'm fine. I feel clean again, with you."

"Not that. It's what I told you my first night at your house, ya know, about not sleeping with my employer."

"But Tony, that was over four years ago. Things have changed between us. You love me."

"Yes, and I respect you, tremendously."

Angela sighed and waded a few steps away from him, then pulled her bathing suit back up. "Alright, you respect me and you work for me. So is that it? We had an almost-tryst and made out, and now it's over?" she asked incredulously.

"No, it's not over. I … can't sleep with my employer. Which is why I gotta do this." Tony put his hands on Angela's shoulders and looked her right in the eyes. "Angela, I quit."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Angela stared at him and blinked twice, just to make sure she wasn't having a bad dream. "You want to quit?" she asked, aghast. The bright sunshine and gently lapping seawater were oblivious to her horror.

"I gotta, Angela. It's the right thing to do, the honest thing to do," he stated, his jaw jutting out in a stubborn arc. "I can't sleep with you if you pay me. Ya know, that would be kinda _"

"Icky?" she ventured.

"Definitely icky."

"Oh, so I get it," she said, a smile replacing her previously horrified expression. "You quit, we make love, and then I hire you again? You can quit and I can hire you over and over and over ..." she trailed off.

"No Angela. Not like that. I have to quit, for real. Though you do make a tempting offer … no, no, no. I really do quit."

"But, but, but that's crazy!" she cried. "You're only a sophomore. What about your studies? What are you going to do for money? Oh my god, you're not moving out, are you?" Angela felt a bit faint at the mere thought. She grasped one of his muscled arms for support. "Please don't leave me, Tony." She didn't want to sound pathetic, but she could hear the begging in her tone. Tears began forming behind her eyes.

"Calm down. Angela, it's gonna be okay." He cupped her face in his hands and sought to reassure her. She was frazzled and scared, and it hadn't been his intention to frighten her.

"I'm not leaving you," he stated, then repeated himself again to make sure she'd heard him.

"But …"

"But nothin'. I ain't leavin'. And I'm not gonna drop outta school either. But I can't be on your payroll."

"Well then, what are you going to do for money?" she asked.

"I can get a job on campus. They have a pizzeria there. It'll be enough to give me pocket money until I graduate. Assuming of course, that I can live in your house, ahem, rent-free in exchange for services rendered?"

"It's _our_ house," she corrected him. "Services rendered?"

"Right. In exchange for free rent, I'd, uh, clean, cook and do laundry. Help with Jonathan, and, er, mow your lawn, grocery shop, and all that stuff."

"So, let me get this straight. You're going to continue living with me and doing all the things you already do, plus go to school full time_ and_ look for a part time job on campus. Yet you refuse to take any money from me?"

"That about sums it up, yeah. I can't take your money."

"But Tony, this is ridiculous. If you take a part time job, it's going to interfere with your studies! Remember when you helped Mrs. Rossini at her fish shop?"

"It won't be as bad, I promise."

"As bad? Tony, I don't want anything in our situation to be 'bad'."

"Well some things will be very good, and I mean very good." He placed a soft kiss against her lips to stop her next words of protest.

She pulled away from him and shook her head. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"Tony, this isn't going to work. If you're not my housekeeper, you can't be my unpaid servant either. No. You're a student and you need to devote yourself to it, not make pizza for college students." She folded her arms across her chest and took a step back. "This is insane. Why can't we simply be together? And if it really wounds your pride, I won't pay you. We can open a joint account instead. Take what you need and use it for the household and for yourself."

"Yeah but Angela, that would be like livin' together. We can't live together … in sin!"

"You're joking, right? 'In sin' Tony? It's not like you've never made love to a woman outside of wedlock."

"Actually, Angela, I haven't." Tony wanted to laugh at the incredulous look on Angela's face.

"No, I don't believe you. There were the Benedetti twins, my former roommate Trish and …"

"Sure, I slept with them, Ang, but I didn't _make love_ to them. Making love and having sex are two very different things. Very."

"Oh?" Thoughts of making love or having sex with Tony began to distract Angela from the issue at hand. She wondered if he could show her the difference.

"As I said before, things would be very good, very good between us, Sweetheart." He fixed Angela with a gaze that made her heart skip a beat.

"But Tony, I've got to pay you!"

"What?! Not for …"

"No, of course not!" she shouted at him, then hit his arm for good measure. "Oh my gosh, this isn't off to a good start, is it?"

"I'm open to suggestions," he said. "If I can't be your housekeeper, and you don't want me taking a part time job, then what?"

"And you don't want to, ha, ha, live in sin," she reminded him. "How Catholic of you."

"Hey, it's not just me. It's the kids. We can't openly live together while they're at home. It would set a bad example. I don't want Sam to think it's okay to shack up with some guy one day."

Angela looked at him and smiled, for she could only think of one solution that would fix everything. "Tony, remember you told me that I wouldn't have to sleep alone? Because of my nightmares?" When he nodded, she continued. "So, even if we only shared a bed, the kids wouldn't know the difference. Perhaps it is best that you quit. I can't be sleeping with my housekeeper."

"Ay-oh, you don't have to be a snob about it."

"I'm not! If I was, I wouldn't be proposing, um, suggesting that we, that we, oh boy. Tony, we are a family. We are! We've been living together for almost five years and have raised our children together. We're in love. We want to be together."

"Uh-huh, keep going. What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that we stop pretending. That we call a spade a spade, and name what we have, what it is." Her dark eyes bore into his, begging him to say the words. She'd lead him there, but the rest was up to him.

"What it is, is a marriage," he said, as though reading her thoughts.

"Yes. Tony, I feel more married to you than I ever felt to Michael. You've been my partner and Jonathan's father for years. And I've been in love with you for years."

"You'd consider marrying me?" he gasped. "For real?"

"You're really wondering that?" she replied. "For real?"

They looked into each other's eyes and burst out laughing. Once Angela got started, she couldn't stop. She was doubled over with mirth, clutching her sides and howling with laughter. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were pink and her face was an open display of pure joyful abandon. Tony stopped smiling and admired her beauty, and his heart gave a little leap at the thought of marrying her.

"Ay-oh, Angela, I'd appreciate if you didn't laugh at my proposal," Tony interjected, half in jest. He smiled at her and took her hand. Her laughter stopped abruptly and she looked at him in mild confusion.

"What?"

He knelt down in the sand, on one knee and gazed up at her. "Angela, given that we've already got a marriage, and you won't sleep with your housekeeper, and we can't shack up, and most importantly, that I'm completely in love with you," Tony grinned because he knew the list could continue indefinitely, "will you marry me?"

Angela knelt down in the sand beside him and flung her arms around his neck, the force of which knocked him to the ground, pulling her down with him. "Yes, yes, Tony, oh yes." She kissed his mouth, then began kissing him all over, little happy kisses, noisy and aimless all over his face.

"Alright!" he cheered. "We're gonna get married." Tony broke out in song, "'Cause we're going to the chapel, and we're gonna get married, Going to the chapel, and we're gonna get married …"

"We are. Oh my gosh, we are! Tony, we have to call Mother and the kids and we have to book a venue, and I'll need a dress and …"

"Hey! Angela, take it easy. We'll get there. The sooner, the better, I say. Actually, make that, as soon as possible."

"You're eager," she giggled.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to be apart from you. Not for a single night. Startin' now."

"Now?" she asked, her words breathless between rapid heartbeats.

"I want to go back to the room now," he said, serious again. "I want to make love to you."

"Ummm, Tony, yessss." She pulled him close and kissed him with passion. "And you can clarify the difference between 'making love' and 'having sex'," she teased him.

"Angela, you and I will be makin' love. But I promise you, it'll be the best sex you've ever had."

"You too, Tony. You too."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Tony and Angela didn't get very far; their plan to make it to the hotel was sidelined by kisses. He kissed her after she accepted his proposal, a long, gentle kiss that spoke of promises and passion to come. She returned his kiss with fervor and enthusiasm, running her long fingers over his firm chest, strong arms and hard, hot body. Touching him made her tender with ache for him. She tasted the sea salt on his collarbone and continued kissing him along the jawline and in the warm crook of his neck. "Mmmfffmmm," she murmured into his sun warmed skin, feeling dizzy with desire. She placed her hand over his heart, fascinated by the strong, rhythmic beats. "Your heart is racing," she said, before crushing her mouth against his once again.

Tony couldn't answer her, couldn't speak, couldn't walk. He put his arms around her waist and let her know how much he wanted her simply by standing so close. "Angela," he moaned, unable to lend any greater coherence to his words. He thought only of her, the smooth skin of her upper arms beneath his fingers, the damp curls escaping from her artfully twisted blond hair, and the feminine curve of her lower back, giving way to the rounded bottom that he'd wanted to bite during their incomplete massage session. He wanted her nude beneath his hands once again, but this time he wouldn't hold back, nor would there be any towels between them. He was coming undone, more aroused than he'd ever been in his life, intoxicated by the sweet scent of her skin and the feel of her hands lightly rubbing his muscles.

"Let's hurry back to the hotel," she gasped between kisses, her tone urgent.

"I can barely walk," he finally managed to sputter. Bent at the waist, he ventured a few steps, then stopped. He was excruciatingly engorged, overtaken by his acute longing for her. "Give me a sec," he said, somewhat embarrassed now.

"You can't make it back? Do you need to sit for a moment?" she asked him, biting back a smile.

Dazed, he did what she said, and lowered himself into the sand. They were still far from the hotel's beach and no other tourists or locals could see them. "A woody doesn't usually incapacitate me," he told her. "It's you. I've never wanted a woman so bad, Ang. Never."

"Oh … oh," she gulped at the sight of the large protrusion in his bathing trunks. She looked at him questioningly, and moved to sit on the sand beside him. "May I?" she asked.

"May you what?" he asked, afraid to hope.

"Touch you …give you release," she said. "It would be better than cold water, wouldn't it?"

"But I want to make love to you at the hotel," he whined.

"That's a half hour walk back. It's okay, Tony. It's okay. We will make love at the hotel, but right now, you can't quite make it, er, walk that far. Do let me do this for you … I want to." She looked into his eyes and smiled at him as she reached down to touch him. He nodded at her, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

"Oh my god!" he whimpered when her hand slid into his shorts and grasped him firmly. He bucked against her and gripped the sand for support, but it merely slid between his fingers. He grunted and moaned at the same time, unable to believe what she was doing to him.

"Should I stop?" she asked, concerned by his intense reaction. She considered yanking off her bathing suit and having sex with him right there on the beach, but she'd never done it in such an exposed location and was hesitant. Besides, they had no protection.

"No! Keep going, please," he begged her. He succumbed to the pleasure she was giving him and screwed his eyes shut. His breathing came in ragged, shallow bursts and his hips gyrated against her. "Pull the shorts down so they don't get …"

"I know, Tony." Angela tugged at his trunks with her left hand, continuing to work on him with her right. Raw masculine power rocked his body, and Angela was reminded of a dangerous volcano about to erupt. She stared fascinated at his expression, noting how he bit down on his lower lip and flared his nostrils. His cheeks were red and sweat was forming along his brow. His release came fiercely and he cried out sharply, grasping her roughly around the waist. "Oh, oh Angela, oh my god."

"Shhhh," she whispered. "It's okay. Here lie down." She kissed his damp forehead and helped him pull his shorts back up. Exhausted he lay down on the sand. She joined him, and rested her head on his chest. His heart beat hard and fast beneath her ear, then began to slow. His breathing was also returning to normal. They gazed out at the ocean together, content in each other's arms.

"Thank you, Angela." He kissed her hair.

"You don't have to thank me. That made me feel closer to you, and I'm flattered that you needed such emergency release because of me," she said shyly.

"No kiddin'! Woman, what you do to me!" He sat up and kissed her, "What about you? Are you able to, ahem, _walk_?" he teased.

"I'm alright," she said, "for now. But I won't hold out much longer. I need you, Tony."

"Don't worry, Angela. I recover fast. Hey, I'm Italian."

* * *

True to his word, Tony did recover quickly. After his release on the beach, he had renewed energy to walk back, no almost run back to the hotel. After a quick stop at the local pharmacy for condoms, they hurried back to the Marriott.

"Oh no, you have got to be kidding me!" Tony exclaimed when they rounded the corner to their room.

"What's he doing here?" Angela hissed between clenched teeth. While extremely grateful to Esteban, the last thing she wanted was a reminder of the previous day. Powerful waves of unexpected humiliation cascaded over her entire being. He'd seen her naked and vulnerable, so now she wanted to hide and pretend that none of it had happened. His mere presence shamed her. She stepped behind Tony and peered out cautiously from behind his sturdy shoulders.

"Angela, Tony, hello," said Esteban. "I am most sorry to disturb you today. But I needed to show you something."

"Uh sure, Esteban. It's not gonna take long, is it?" Tony asked him. He clutched the bag of condoms tightly in his left fist and rammed the key into the lock with his right, then kicked at the door with his foot. "Come on in, buddy."

Esteban walked slowly, his head low and eyes to the ground. He felt ashamed of being Paolo's son and was especially embarrassed to deliver this news to Angela Bower. He made fleeting eye contact with her before sitting on the couch. "Please sit down," he motioned to the seat beside him.

"What is it, Esteban?" she asked. Merely seeing him here brought back unpleasant memories and she shuddered.

Esteban could sense her discomfort and vowed to do this as quickly and painlessly as possible. "I visited my father in jail today," he began, his voice low and soft. Angela didn't reply. She looked at him with large, dark eyes, her expression unfathomable. An uncomfortable silence ensued. Esteban opened his briefcase and placed some papers onto Angela's lap, not knowing how to speak to her anymore. "He sent me to his safe to show you this. The original is at his lawyer's."

"What is that?" Angela took the papers that he held out to her. She read them over quickly and gasped in shock. "But I didn't sign that!"

"It's not your signature?" Esteban asked her, hopeful now.

"Well it is … but I don't remember signing it. Besides, my handwriting is wobbly and lopsided. I never signed the Bower Agency over to your father. I would never do that! This is insane!" Angela stood up, leaving a small pile of sand on the sofa seat. "Tony, look at this," she exclaimed in alarm, thrusting the papers against his chest.

Tony scanned the contents, the look of horror on his face growing by the second. "How … how, did he manage this?" he sputtered.

"He drugged me," Angela reminded him. "This won't hold up in any court of law. I wasn't sober, and I was coerced by the man who later tried to kill me! Surely anyone with an iota of common sense can see that!"

"Yes," replied Esteban. "But I had to show you what he did. This is why he gave you the sedatives and why he tried to drown you."

Feeling weak in the knees, Angela sat back down on the sandy couch. "This was his plan all along, from the first time he met me in that taxi. Oh, oh dear, how could I have been so naïve? He was plotting to steal my agency from me the entire time," she gasped. Tony sat beside her, crumpled documents abandoned on the floor. He put his arms around her and held her tightly while she cried against him, burying her face in his shoulder. "You knew …. You knew, Tony. You always felt that something was off with him. I should have listened to you, should have trusted you."

"Hey, you couldn't have known. And besides, you did trust me when you let me tag along to Brazil with you."

"Yes, but it was too late."

"No, it wasn't. You're here, aren't you? You're safe and this piece of sh_, er paper, isn't gonna prove anything. As you said, signing a document under duress while drugged don't count in any court of law, especially when the man trying to gain control of your agency was arrested for murdering a fashion model!"

Esteban nodded vigorously as Tony spoke. "Tony is right, of course. I have my own lawyer and suggest that you hire one as well. My father wanted to kill me last night. And today, he seems to have conveniently forgotten that fact, and expects me to continue as his right-hand man at _Duro Maio._ My father is out of touch with reality."

"What about the charges against him? For murdering Lucia? For trying to kill me?!" Angela asked.

"He vigorously denies the charges, and claims complete innocence, of course," replied Esteban with a deep sigh. He raked his fingers through his curly hair in frustration. "He needs a dose of reality. That is why I came—to show you this document so that you could refute it. My father is under the impression that he will be exonerated of all charges against him, and then own the Bower Agency. He's always gotten his way in life, in business and with women."

"Well now he won't!" Angela yelled. The intensity of her voice startled her and she jumped. "He won't. All of those small businesses that he swallowed, and all the women he hurt … it ends with me, now." She felt her power returning, flowing into her veins and she stood up once more. Tony stood beside her.

* * *

After numerous phone consultations with her lawyer, and Esteban's lawyer, Angela felt somewhat mollified. Paolo's case for owning the Bower Agency was tenuous at best, and easy to refute.

Tony and Angela were alone again in their room. Esteban's visit had shaken them up quite a bit.

"Who knows when Paolo's case will even get to trial?" Angela wondered. "This is going to mean another trip down here when it's time to testify against him. Dammit Tony, I don't want my agency's ownership called into question. It's mine."

"And we're gonna get that part sorted out before we go home. Testifying against Paolo for the attempted murder case is somethin' else. Too bad there's no death penalty in Brazil."

"Death would be too good for him, Tony. I want him to rot in a jail cell and never see another woman again for as long as he lives." Her eyes flashed with anger and she pounded the couch with her fist for emphasis.

"Hey, hey, how 'bout we not talk about that jerk anymore, okay? How about we concentrate on us?" He moved beside her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "All that talking with Esteban and lawyers and well … our plans got put on hold."

"I'm sorry, Tony."

"No, don't apologize. I only want to get back to where we were. Remember how you felt on the beach when we were racing back to the hotel? You were looking forward to us being alone in this room together. As was I!" Tony kissed the back of her hand, then turned it palm up and placed a searing hot kiss on her wrist. He smiled at the tiny moan that popped out of Angela's mouth, for it was a sound of surprised lust and it made him want her even more.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, pulling her hand away. Her thoughts were still on her lawyer's words and she was having trouble making the transition back to carefree abandon. She wanted to be unfettered by her worries for their first time together.

"Oh yeah, I'm starving," he replied, his eyes twinkling seductively. "But not for food."

"Tony!" She pulled out of his grasp and stood up.

"What's wrong? Ay-oh, are you alright?" He followed her to the window, where she was staring at the sun setting over the waves, a forlorn look on her pale face. She was silent for a moment, before turning to face him.

"Maybe I'm not, not yet. There's still so much hanging over my head, and I only want it to be over." She fixed him with sad eyes. "I don't know that I'm ready … for this," she said, gesturing to the small bag of condoms sitting on the bed.

"But … but … after what we did on the beach, don't you want a turn? Angela, I want to help you feel good."

"You do. You already do. Maybe we shouldn't do it until we're married," she said.

"What? No offense Angela, but that's a pretty lame thing to say. If you're not ready, you're not ready and that's okay. We can take it slow, real slow if you like." He kissed her gently and pulled her into a hug. "You're worth the wait. Waitin' for you is like an excruciating pleasure, but I'm not going anywhere. I've already told you that."

"I know." She kissed him back and squeezed him tightly. "Can we sleep together tonight? Just sleep? Though if it gets to be too much for you, I really don't mind giving you release again," she told him.

"You don't mind huh?" Tony looked at her thoughtfully but shook his head. "No, we're not gonna do that as a substitute for sex. When you're ready, I'll make love to you like you deserve—tenderly, passionately and with the most exquisite pleasure you've ever experienced. When you're ready."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Waking up next to Tony felt extraordinary in its naturalness. Angela opened one eye and shut it again, then snuggled more deeply against his strong bare chest. His presence had kept her nightmares at bay, and she'd slept soundly because of him. She never wanted to sleep alone again. The warmth of his skin radiated through the bed, giving off a distinctly masculine scent, one that was uniquely his. She breathed deeply and kissed her way across his bare shoulder, smiling as each small kiss interrupted the light rumble of his snoring. "That's one way to keep you from snoring," she whispered against his bicep, before pressing her lips against it. She watched him sleeping for a while, admiring his sleep-softened features, the way his sensuous lips curled up in a slight smile, the rough five o'clock shadow on his jaw and the movement of his eyelids in REM sleep. "I can't believe we're getting married. I love you so much Tony," she whispered to him. Not wanting to wake him, she exited the bed quietly and went to get herself ready in the bathroom.

She took her time, spending longer in her daily morning shower than she used to before the events with Paolo. Ever since his attack, she found herself needing more time beneath the spray, more vigorous scrubbing to feel clean again. Tony's cleansing ritual in the ocean had helped her tremendously, but she still wasn't back to normal, she knew. It would take time and patience. Angela stepped out of the shower and towel dried her hair, pausing to examine her reflection in the mirror. "Why me?" she asked herself. A lump rose into her throat and she swallowed it back. "No, no, no," she told the woman in the mirror. "I'm not going to do this, not now. It's over and he's gone and he can't hurt me anymore." She attacked her hair vigorously with the towel, then dried off the rest of herself. "Except he has my agency," she moaned. "Damn it to hell!"

The vehemence of her curse alarmed her, for she wasn't one to utter such damning words. "What are you going to do about it?" she asked her reflection. The woman in the mirror merely stared back at her, with damp, mussed up hair and angry pink cheeks. Angela turned away from her, not wanting to see.

When she re-entered the bedroom, she saw that Tony was sitting up in bed. He gave her a puzzled look. "Angela, were you swearing in the bathroom?"

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Honey, come 'ere," he patted the bed. "What's going on?" The warm concern in his eyes, and his sleep-tousled hair made Angela want to fling her arms around him. Instead, however, she sat on the edge of the bed, her arms clutched around her middle.

"I want my agency safely back in my hands. Today, Tony. Today."

"I know. And you will get it back, eventually. Your lawyer and Esteban's lawyer are working on it."

"Who knows how long it'll take them? I need to take care of this. Me."

"You? And how exactly do you propose doing that?" Tony asked, a worried expression creeping across his face.

"I need to talk to him," she decided. A wave of adrenaline flooded her bloodstream but she ignored it. "Today."

"I hope you're talkin' about your lawyer, Angela." Tony's eyebrows rose in alarm.

"No, I need to speak with Paolo—to confront him." Before Tony could interject with his objections, she put up her hand and added, "I want to see him in a jail cell, where he belongs. I want him to see that I'm alive and well, and to know that he failed."

"He's not worth it, Angela. And I don't think it's a good idea for you to expose yourself to that situation. You have no idea what he might say to you!"

"No, Tony, you have it backwards. He's the one who should be worried about what I'm going to say to him!"

* * *

"I want you to know that I strongly object to this meeting!" Tony declared, barely keeping his anger in check. He and Angela, along with Esteban and his lawyer had just arrived at the local jail, where Paolo was awaiting a bail hearing.

"Duly noted," she said.

"We could just let the lawyers take care of everything, Angela. It's not too late to turn around and leave." Tony took a step toward the exit and tried to edge Angela along, but she refused to budge. She was mentally prepping herself, and Tony's attempts to leave were beginning grate on her already overwrought nerves.

"My lawyer is not coming to Brazil, Tony. He's advising me by phone. Esteban's lawyer is on our side and I'm perfectly safe. Paolo can't hurt me now. Too bad he can't say the same thing about me."

"Ay-oh, what are you thinking?" Tony asked in alarm. "You can't touch him. Besides, if anybody's gonna beat him up, it's me!"

"That's not what I meant." Angela swallowed back her fear and held her head up high, chin tilted forward. "I'm here to secure the Bower Agency, that's all."

"I don't like this, Angela."

"I know. But I'm glad you came with me. Your support means so much to me." Angela pressed her icy hands into his and squeezed hard. "I'm ready, let's go in." Her heart was pounding and an avalanche of emotions slammed into her when she caught sight of Paolo. The room was small and dingy, paint chipping off the mint green walls. A long metal table dominated, and Paolo sat at its head, his lawyer beside him. Angela wrinkled her nose at the overpowering scent of bleach—it reminded her of the swimming pool. She balked and saw that Paolo had noticed it, for his lips curled up into a cruel grin.

"Angela," he greeted her. His tone held a mild note of sarcasm. He was clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Sit."

"I'll stand." Angela felt as though she was moving through thick water, her feet slowed by sludge. She trudged toward the metal table, Tony in tow, and came to a full stop before Paolo. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but words failed her. Contempt, fear, and rage all warred within her, and she needed to let it out. Without saying a word, she slapped Paolo hard across the face, leaving red fingermarks behind. The resounding _thwack _of the slap echoed in the confines of the grimy room. She didn't even care that her hand stung, nor that the guard admonished her and forced her to stand further away. Esteban's lawyer only shook his head slightly, but Esteban himself appeared rather pleased. Tony said nothing but placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Look at you sitting there," she began, addressing Paolo. He looked pathetic, unshaven and exhausted, his eyes bruised and dull.

"I won't be here much longer," he told her smugly.

"Is that so?"

"My bail hearing has been moved up. It is tomorrow. So whatever you have come to say, just say it. Then leave."

"Your bail hearing … already?" Angela swallowed hard.

"Yes, I am not awaiting my trial in this hellhole. I will return to my villa."

"And to your swimming pool?" she asked, unable to mask her contempt and horror.

"I need my exercise," he replied, taunting her.

"You sick son of a bitch! You murdered a girl in there! You tried to kill me. You … you molested me and tried to steal my agency_"

He cut her off, "_my_ agency, _Senhora_. Mine."

Angela made to lunge for him, but Tony's strong arms restrained her. He needed all of his strength to hold back her fury, her rage. "Let's get outta here," he said, while leading her toward the door.

"You're a despicable excuse for a human being!" she shouted at Paolo, while Tony tried to lead her away.

"I do not care about your insults, because I have your agency! Now leave."

"Wait! Stop!" shouted Esteban. Angela froze in her tracks, still reeling from Paolo's last statement.

"Papa," began Esteban, "Who do you think will pay your bail tomorrow?"

Paolo simply stared at his son. "_Duro Maio_ will."

"No. _Duro Maio_ cannot be associated with this scandal. As acting CEO of _Duro Maio_, I will not release company funds for your bail." Before his father could interrupt, Esteban continued, "I would like to save Angela Bower the inconvenience of having to go to court for her agency. You will destroy the fraudulently obtained documents right now. I know your lawyer has them."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"I'm not the one who is crazy, Papa!"

"I will not be spoken to in this matter!" shouted Paolo. He stood too quickly and attempted to take a step toward his son, but forgot that his ankles were shackled together. He lost his balance and face planted at Esteban's feet.

Esteban cast his eyes down at his father and cleared his throat with determination. "You will destroy your fraudulent, dishonest documents and give up all claim to the Bower Agency immediately." He looked at his father, feeling a surge of power welling up within him. His shyness wasn't going to impede him any longer. "Then perhaps, perhaps, I'll come to your bail hearing and help you."

"You're blackmailing me!" Paolo was incensed.

"Not at all. I'm attempting to reverse a crime in progress. Do you accept my terms?"

Paolo stared at Esteban in shock. His own snotty-nosed brat had never stood up to him. He'd always been so easy to manage and groom. One day, he was supposed to take over _Duro Maio_, but not yet. Paolo needed to be out on bail. He needed it more than the Bower Agency, because losing _Duro Maio _would mean losing his life's blood, his years of hard work. Still on the floor, Paolo slowly sat up, the manacles on his legs impeding his movements. "Yes, I accept," he conceded in defeat.

* * *

"Feel better now?" Tony asked, as he and Angela were in the cab, on their way back to the hotel. She'd been quiet during most of the ride, her mood strangely alternating between anger and giddiness. He wasn't sure what to make of it, so he stayed silent, letting her process the meeting.

"I'll never be able to thank Esteban enough," she replied, not directly answering his question.

"The kid's got ba_, uh, gumption. Must be a real shocker to see his father like this though."

"I can't imagine."

"So, Angela, do you want to go back to the hotel, or maybe you wanna look around a bit first? Visit some shops?"

"You want to go shopping? Now?" The question struck her as oddly out of place. She turned from the window to face him, confused by the twinkle in his eye. "What do you want to shop for?"

"You'll see." Tony shot her an enigmatic smile, before giving the cabbie new instructions. The changed direction and began heading toward the bustling city centre and its shops. Tony whispered something else to the cabbie, a question that Angela could not hear. She leaned closer to hear, and blushed when Tony shook his head at her. "It's a surprise."

"Don't you think I've had enough surprises during this trip?"

"This is a good one, Angela. A very good one," he replied, unable to keep the excitement out of his words. He was acting like a little boy at Christmas. Angela's curiosity was piqued.

"Alright." His joy was contagious, and a smile broke out on her face, a ray of light piercing the dark cloud. It illuminated the cab's dusky interior.

"God, you're beautiful," he told her. He was mesmerised by the dark hue of her eyes, even darker than his own, twin pools of rich espresso. It was those eyes that had drawn him to her time and again. Those same eyes that over the years had spoken volumes while she'd remained silent about her feelings for him. She'd been in love with him since the night of his appendectomy? He'd suspected of course, because of the light and passion in her eyes, the way she'd cast them shyly at him when she thought he wasn't looking. He'd seen fear in them too, when he'd spent the weekend at Frankie's last year. And relief, when he'd told her not to marry Geoffrey. And he could never forget, _would_ never forget the look she'd given him when she'd realized that he'd traded his baseball card for that fancy Tiffany vase. Her eyes had connected with his, and he'd been unable to hide from them, unable to shield himself from the love blazing there, despite her boyfriend's presence in the room. So yes, he'd known that she loved him. And today, he hoped that she'd look at him the same way.

"Tony? Penny for your thoughts," she said, wondering at his dopey love-struck expression.

"They're worth more than a penny," he said. "I was thinking about your eyes. They're incredible, you know that?"

"My eyes? But they're so ordinary … and brown. I always wanted blue eyes like Mother."

"No. There are depths to yours—depths that transcend colour. Angela, you've got eyes like nobody else 'cause yours are alive with the real you. I think that's the first thing I fell in love with when I met you, before I even knew that I was in love with you. When you opened the door to me that first day, wearin' that silly pink turban on your head, all I could see were your eyes. It's like they recognized me, or I recognized them. You know what I'm sayin'?"

"Not really," she said, a bit stunned. "Your eyes recognized my eyes?"

"A meeting of souls, Angela. We were meant to be. Maybe I'm not good at this sentimental gobbledygook. I just know that when I look into your eyes, I'm right where I belong."

"Oh Tony …" Her beautiful eyes filled with unshed tears. One single tear rolled down her cheek and he caught it with his index finger. "We do belong together and your gobbledygook is lovely. I love your eyes too—they're so warm and true." Their eyes met, the space between them vibrant with swirling emotions. Caught up in the moment, they kissed, their lips saying so much without words.

"Ahem, we have arrived," the cabbie said after a few moments, not wanting to interrupt the passionate kisses in his back seat.

Tony gave Angela one last kiss, a soft tender pressing of his lips against hers. "Come on, Angela, there's somethin' we gotta do."

"Where are we?" she asked. They were parked in front of several little shops. "This is your destination?"

"Yup. Come on Angela—I'm taking you to the jewellery store. It's time you had an engagement ring."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Angela admired the ring on her finger, the way the light caught the diamond and made it sparkle. The diamond was small, about ¼ carat but its cut and clarity were perfect. It was scintillating and it was from Tony. She was mesmerised, unable to tear her eyes away from her left hand.

"So, you like it, huh?"

"Oh Tony, it's gorgeous. I just can't believe that we're engaged, finally, and for real. I mean this is really happening!"

"We are, but I wish I could afford a bigger diamond."

"It's perfect just the way it is. I love it … and I love you," she said, her dark eyes illuminated by the candlelight on their small dinner table for two. They were celebrating their engagement at the hotel's fine restaurant, dining on duck a l'orange, beans almandine and roasted potatoes. He smiled back at her, struck by how beautiful she looked tonight. Her hair was loose and wavy about her shoulders and she wore a dark emerald dress, with long sleeves and a short skirt. A very short skirt. He couldn't help but glance at her long, slender legs every so often.

She took a bite of her food, then looked up at him again. "Tony, that's going to be some announcement when we get home. Mother and the children will be so surprised!"

"No kiddin! Can't wait to see Mona's face. Speaking of which, did you ever talk to your mother about what happened here? With Paolo?"

Angela busied herself with her food, carefully cutting a piece of duck and potato and placing them on her fork. "Hmmm? Mother?"

"Hey," he said, placing a hand on her wrist. "Did you talk to Mona?"

She looked down at her plate, her food a blur through tears. "I told her that I lost the account—I had to tell her that. And I told her that Paolo tried to take the agency, but that's all I told her. I just couldn't … couldn't tell her about his assault, Tony."

"Oh Sweetheart, why not?"

"Because it's humiliating! I'm thirty-seven years old, a successful business owner, yet I was duped like a naïve schoolgirl. He had me fooled Tony. What does that say about my credibility in advertising? About my lack of discernment?"

"It doesn't say anything about you, Angela, except perhaps that you're very trusting. He's the criminal here—you got nothin' to be ashamed about!" His voice became louder and some of the other diners turned to look at them. "Sorry," he whispered to her. "All I'm tryin' to say is that you didn't do anything wrong. You went into this with the best of intentions and a great campaign. It's not your fault that he targeted you."

"Tony, can we please stop talking about this?" Her palms began to sweat and she shuddered. "I don't want to talk about him. Please."

"Alright." He smoothed the white tablecloth and took a deep breath. "We can talk about us."

"That's a much better topic," she said, smiling again now. She looked down at her ring and let out a small, happy sigh. "We're getting married!" she squealed.

"And when would you like to do that?" he asked, grinning.

"As soon as possible, Tony. Or else, how will we explain that we're sharing a bed? I never want to sleep without you again," she added pointedly, gazing at him with deep desire in her eyes.

"And you won't, Sweetheart. Never again."

"But when we get home …" she began, trailing off uncertainly. "The children might not understand and I don't want to give them the wrong impression by sharing a bed."

"Then we won't," he replied. He looked up to see her staring at him quizzically. "How about we not wait?" he said by way of explanation.

"What do you mean?" Her heart began to pound faster. She pushed her almost full plate to the side and leaned in to him. "What do you mean?" she repeated.

"I mean we'll get married the minute we get home. I'm sure there's a little chapel where you don't have to wait. People elope all the time, right?"

"You want to elope?" she asked, unsure now.

"No, of course not. I want Mona, the kids and Mrs. R there. But that's all we need, Angela. Because after all, who are the two most important people for us to have at our wedding?"

"Well, that would be _us_, of course," she said then giggled. "Oh my, we're really going to do this and right away?"

"You, me, and our loved ones. That's all we need, Ang."

She nodded her head, overcome by thick emotion, finding herself unable to speak. "I can't wait. I can't wait to become your wife. You … you … you're already living the role of husband, and have been for years."

"Then, all we gotta do is make it legal, huh?"

"Yes. Make it legal.

* * *

They headed back to their room, unsated by food as they'd left most of their dinner uneaten. Food certainly held a lesser appeal than his fiancée's lingering gaze, her soft hands in his, her voice low and enigmatic when she told him she was ready to return to the room. He'd never heard her speak in those tones, the tones of a lover and he could have spent hours simply listening to her talk like that, her desire proclaimed in the cadence of her voice, its silky rawness, a bedroom voice. The sound of love, he decided. The roast duck and potatoes fell to the wayside, quite literally, his forkful of food careening to the floor when she leaned in closer and fixed the fathomless depth of her dark eyes upon him, pupils dilated, eyes moist with emotion. "I'm not hungry anymore," she said and held out her hand to him. He followed of course, and now they were just outside their bedroom door. With trembling hands, it took him two tries to get the key in. "Just a bit nervous," he chuckled. She smiled and steadied his hand with her own.

"So am I, but it's okay, because we're going to be together. And that's where I feel the safest. With you." She smiled up at him and grasped his hand. Together they walked into the bedroom. "Just give me a minute to freshen up," she said. She looked away from him demurely and headed into the bathroom.

Tony stared at the closed bathroom door and let out a gasp. He'd been holding his breath, which he now blew out in quick nervous puffs. "Breathe Micelli," he whispered to himself. His heart was racing from both anticipation and nerves. This was it, the big moment. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands, shifting his gaze to the intricate patterns on the hotel carpet. His mind flashed back to the night of Angela's rescue by Paolo's pool and he shuddered. It was fresh still, too fresh, and he worried that it might creep up between them tonight. How vulnerable she'd been, how defenseless, and how brave to try and save him. A tear fell onto his hand, and he looked at it in surprise. "I almost lost her," he said to himself, the horror of that realization sinking in more deeply than it had. Now that she was safe with him again, he had the luxury, or rather the pain of luxuriating in his thoughts.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked. She was at his side in an instant, crouching beside the bed trying to look up into his hidden face.

He sniffled and looked away. "I almost lost you," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "I almost lost you forever, Angela."

"Oh Sweetie, I'm right here. I'm here and I'm safe and I want to be with you." Angela slid her fingers beneath his and cupped his face. "You saved my life."

"If he'd killed you, I … I wouldn't have been able to survive it. I've already been widowed once, but twice?"

"Feel my heart; it's beating because I'm alive." She gently guided his hand from his face onto her chest, over the Rio graphic on her nightgown. She held it against her left breast so he could feel the accelerated rhythm of her heartbeat and know that it was racing for him.

Tony felt her life force drumming beneath his hand, insistent and very much alive. He closed his eyes and absorbed what he could through that point of contact, his hand on her heart. They stayed like that for a full minute, silently spellbound, eyes closed, exhaling softly. "I've given you my heart," she said breaking the silence. He opened his eyes and gazed into hers, implicit agreement.

"And I promise that I'll always cherish it, forever. You have mine as well."

She reached up and gently pressed her lips to his, sealing their promises and vows. He kissed her back, at first softly but with gradual intensity. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up onto the bed. Then he kissed her again and again and again, desperate for her, her scent, the taste of her. He slid his hands under her cotton nightgown and felt the contours of her breasts beneath, their skin smooth as silk in his hands. He couldn't get enough of her, kissing and touching.

"The condoms," she interrupted. "They're in that little bag on the night table."

Tony looked up and stopped for a moment, mesmerised by the flushed glow on her face and her swollen lips. "I'm clean, you know."

"So am I, but … but what about birth control?"

"Angela, we're getting married in a matter of days. Does it really matter?"

"You want to try for a baby? Now?" She couldn't help but grin. "It's kind of early, isn't it?"

"Well you're, I mean _we_ aren't getting any, _ahem_, younger," he trailed off, a bit embarrassed now. "Maybe we could just not prevent it? We don't have to time it or anything, just, you know …"

"No barriers."

"Right. I don't want any barriers with you. I'm gonna marry you. This ain't some one-night stand, or casual fling. We're a family, raising our two kids together already."

She nodded and returned her lips to his. Their kisses became more urgent and they relished the feelings of security, love and family that bound them, for they were already married insomuch as a couple can be before the official pronouncements. They were the only two people in the world right now, limbs entwined, her long blond hair a cascading curtain over him. He tangled his fingers in it, and admired the buttery gold strands splayed upon his sun darkened skin. He made love to her, enthralled by her soft cries of pleasure and astonishment. 'So this is how it is,' they both thought when their bodies joined and began moving together in the rhythm that all lovers know. He remained locked into her when it was over, wanting to remain as close to her as possible.

"Is this okay? Is my weight too much on you?" he asked, ever solicitous. She lay on her back, he on top of her. Their sweat slicked skin stuck together and Tony didn't want to move.

"It's fine," she told him, as she reached up to kiss him. "I'm too lethargic to move and I want to stay close to you. If only we could stay like this forever …"

"If only we didn't need to eat," he chuckled. His tummy rumbled in response. "See?"

"Oh Tony, I … I …" her voice broke and she pulled his face down and kissed him yet again.

"Shh, hey, it's okay," he told her, noting the moistness forming in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I've dreamed of this moment, and I've longed for you, for this, for such a long time," she said, all choked up. "I've loved you for so long and here we finally are." Her fingers reached behind him and caressed the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "I was worried that it might be difficult because of what happened at the pool."

The tender concern in his eyes blazed fiercely. "So was I. I was almost afraid to touch you, wondering what was going on inside of you."

"You were," she smirked. A wide grin broke out over her face. "Tony, I was fine. I am fine. Our lovemaking was healing. I think it's because you've given me all of yourself and love me so unconditionally. I knew I was safe. I'm always safe with you."

Tony rolled over and propped himself up on his side, leaning on his elbow and scrutinized her. "I have, I do, and you are," he confirmed. He could feel himself hardening again and was amazed by his quick trigger recovery. "Angela, you've given me all of yourself too. I've never felt like this before, ever."

"What do you propose we do about it?" she said. She snuggled deeply into him and felt his growing arousal against her hip. "Oh." She wrapped her legs around him and they made love again, slowly this time, with the surety that they had all the time in the world.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Sam, I think it's them! They're back!" Jonathan Bower cried out when the airport limo's headlights shone into the living room.

Samantha bounded down the stairs and crouched near the front entrance window, watching as her dad and Angela walked toward the front door. She leapt up to open it, but Jonathan beat her to it. A cold blast of February air rushed into the house as their parents came inside.

"Hi!" Tony and Angela greeted the kids with noisy kisses and tight hugs. After a weeklong absence, the parental expressions of love weren't rebuffed. Even Jonathan didn't mind when his mother adorned his cheeks with lipsticky kisses. "Oh, I've missed you both so much!" she said between smooches and squishes.

"Dad, you're so tanned! Angela, how come you're not?" Sam exclaimed. The children managed to extricate themselves from their parents' arms. "Oooh, I wish I had a tan too. Dad, you're so lucky that Angela let you follow her."

"Actually, I'm the one who's lucky he came," Angela said in a soft voice, her smile enigmatic. She pulled off her gloves and removed her coat. "And we're back in a winter wonderland." She kicked off her boots and exclaimed at the snowy mess in the entranceway. "I haven't missed this, ugh."

"Don't worry, I'll clean it up," Tony said.

"You don't have to. I can do it," she replied, unsure of their roles now. "I mean, unless you want to?"

The kids stared at them, puzzled. "Why would you clean it up, Mom? It's Tony's job."

"Uhhhh," Tony stared at the melting snow beneath his feet and didn't know what to say. "We're gonna have to have a family meeting, but it's late now. Tomorrow. Besides, we need Mona. Hey, where is Mona? She's supposed to be babysitting!"

"Seriously, Dad? I'm sixteen. Besides, Mona's on a date."

"Of course she is." Tony rolled his eyes. "And just 'cause you're sixteen doesn't mean you don't need some lookin' after, Sweetheart."

"But Mother's been staying at the house, hasn't she? I mean, she's been sleeping here, right?"

"Of course she has!" the children cried out in chorus, too quickly and too rehearsed. Angela raised a questioning eyebrow at her son, until he relented, "except when she's entertaining a gentleman, ahem, friend."

Tony groaned. "Good grief! And you and I are worried about openly sharing a_"

Angela held up her hand. "Not now, Tony."

"But your mother has no problem flaunting her s-s-s-never mind!"

"Are you worried that Grandma's corrupting us?"

"Jonathan!"

"Sorry Mom."

"I'll deal with Mother when I see her. I only hope she fed you and that you got to school on time every day."

"Hey, aren't you guys home early? I thought you weren't coming back until Sunday night," Sam said. "Mona would have been sure to be here if she knew you were returning tonight."

"I'm sure she would have," Angela said drily. "Yes, we are home early. I lost the account and there wasn't really any reason to stay longer." She neglected to mention that Paolo's upcoming bail hearing filled her with such dread that she and Tony had decided to be safely in Connecticut in case the man was released early. She didn't want to be anywhere near Brazil if that was the case.

"Aw, I'm sorry you lost the account, but you could have enjoyed the beach, Angela. Gone swimming _"

"No!" Angela didn't intend to cut the girl off so sharply. "I mean, I have work to do. Time to secure some new business."

"Yeah, but it's Rio! Did you go to _Carnivale_?" Sam continued, not believing that one could waste one's time stuck in an office while visiting such a magnificent city. She would have spent the time sunbathing, shopping, and taking in tourist sites.

"We didn't make it. It started last night, but we were … busy."

"But your commercial was supposed to use _Carnivale_ … oh right, never mind. Sorry Angela. I guess losing the account was an awful big deal. It's just that you seem so, so, I don't know, happy?"

"I am happy, Sam. Now, do you kids have homework to do?"

"No, it's Friday night."

"Right, well, I'm going to go unpack. Then, it's lights out kids." Angela gave her son one last tight squeeze and she patted Sam's shoulder. "I'll come and say goodnight when you're ready for bed." Tony grabbed the suitcases and followed Angela up the stairs with more admonishments that the kids get ready for bed.

Samantha and Jonathan stared as their parents made their way upstairs. "That was weird," Sam said.

"What do you mean?"

"Geez, do I have to explain everything to you?" Sam looked down at the younger boy and shook her head. "You're such a baby."

"Hey! I am not a baby. I'm almost thirteen!"

"And you didn't think that was weird?"

"What part?"

"All of it! Them coming home early, Angela losing the account after she already had it, not going to _Carnivale_, and even the way they acted weird when your mom offered to clean the melted snow. On top of that, Dad walked away from a mess without caring. You should clean it; go get some paper towels."

"Me? But, but, but …"

"But nothing, kiddo. I've got seniority. Go on, clean it up. I'm gonna go see if I can hear anything good upstairs."

* * *

They were in Angela's room, unpacking and sorting laundry, unaware that a suspicious teenaged girl had her ear pressed against the door.

"I guess this needs to go into the wash," Tony chuckled, holding up the Rio sleepshirt.

"Whatever you do, don't shrink it. It's barely long enough as it is."

"Short is good, especially with those legs of yours. I don't think I'll ever be able to see you in that nightie without thinking about last night." Tony wound his arms around Angela's waist and pulled her close. He pressed his lips against her temple. "I want to stay here with you tonight, but I'm a bit worried about the kids finding out."

"Why do you think I pushed for them to go to bed?" Angela cupped his face and pulled his mouth down to hers.

"Smart lady," he muttered between kisses. "Smart and sexy."

"That's why you're marrying me," she teased him.

"Ummm, yes. That and I'm completely besotted with you."

"Oh Tony, oh my goodness, I can't believe how much I want you right now." She ran her hands down his back and squeezed his buttocks. "Last night was everything I dreamed it could be between us, and more. I love you so much." Angela was both aroused and emotional, her heart bursting with love. She didn't want to be apart from Tony for even one night.

"We'll be together tonight, Angela. But we'll have to sneak around, at least until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, 'cause we're gettin' married tomorrow. I think Mona and the kids will be pleasantly surprised, don't you?"

"Or shocked. Maybe we should talk to the kids tonight after all. Just tell them that we're in love."

"Yeah but Mona's not here. We'll wait for her, and tell them all at the same time."

Samantha backed away from Angela's bedroom door, her hand shoved hard against her mouth so she wouldn't squeal. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she whispered over and over again. Unable to handle the burden of such a huge secret by herself, she ran down the stairs on trembling legs and grabbed Jonathan by the shoulders and shook him. "Oh. My. God!"

"What?" Jonathan took a step back because Sam was weirding him out. She was doing that freaky rapid eye blinking thing she did when processing too much information. "What? What did you hear?"

"They're getting married."

"Sure they are." Jonathan pushed past her and grabbed the dirty paper towels to throw them out in the kitchen garbage. Sam followed him.

"No, really! I overheard them talking. They're in love and they're getting married," Sam insisted.

"Sam, if you're messing with me, you're going to regret it." Jonathan threw out the slushy towels and washed his hands at the kitchen sink. When he was done, he turned around to face her. "What did they say?"

"Well my dad said something about your mom's legs and how her nightgown reminded him of _last night._ They totally did it last night! And my dad said he was going to spend the night in her room, and they talked about telling us, but they're waiting for Mona!" Her words were breathless and tumbling together too quickly.

"They want to tell us that he's spending the night in her room?" Jonathan's large eyes were round as saucers. "I think you're bullshitting me, Sam."

"No, I'm not. Cross my heart and hope to die! They want to tell us they're getting married, not that they're having sex. Sheesh, how dumb are you?"

"You're not joking, are you?" he said, noting her flared nostrils and flushed cheeks. He didn't think her a good enough actress to pull off such a big ruse.

"No. They're getting married, uh, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But that's crazy! How are they supposed to plan something like that so fast?"

"How should I know? But it's so romantic, don't you think? They fell in love in Rio, running along the beach in the sand, ooooh, just like a romance novel," she gushed, her smile big and bright. "I knew they were in love."

"Ew. I don't want to think about them that way." He clutched the kitchen table for support and sat down. Jonathan found girls silly, and their romantic notions even sillier, especially as it concerned his mother as the heroine. "The whole neighbourhood knows they're in love. And _we've _been living with them for years, seeing it up close and personal."

"No kidding. Hey, remember when you tried to set them up that Valentine's Day years ago? Ha, ha, ha, you told them they should just have sex and get it over with."

Jonathan chuckled at the memory. "Sounds like they took my advice."

"God, they were so embarrassed." Sam giggled and sat at the table beside Jonathan. "I'm glad. I'm glad they're together. That means Dad will stay here. I'm gonna feel a whole lot more secure once they've tied the knot."

"Were you feeling insecure?" Jonathan asked her. He was a perceptive kid, but he hadn't noticed that about her before.

"I don't know. Maybe. It's just … well, when your mom was dating Geoffrey, I got scared, real scared. And when your dad came back that time before, he fired my dad. If your mom ever remarried, the new guy would probably do the same thing."

"Yeah, it sucked that my dad did that. And he was such a jerk, only staying a month. I'm glad that Mom and Tony are together too. They belong together."

"So, I guess you're stuck with me, Squirt." Samantha smiled at him affectionately and ruffled his hair.

"Yeah, too bad huh." Jonathan pushed her away and grinned. As much as she confused him, she was his family. The moment didn't last long. Sam jumped out of her chair and bolted toward the phone.

"Oh gosh, I'm dying to call Bonnie!"

"You can't! It's a secret still, Sam. Come on, we only have to wait until tomorrow to officially know everything. Can't you keep your mouth shut for one night?"

"Fine. Come on, let's pretend we haven't heard anything. If you give it away, I'm gonna slug you."

The kids respected the secret despite feeling that they might explode with the knowledge of it. They turned in early, and pretended not to hear bedroom doors opening, or the eager telltale footsteps of a lover in the night.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

They married in a quiet ceremony the very next day, attended only by their very closest family members and Mrs. Rossini. For the reception dinner, they sat at Nick Milano's table in his favourite restaurant, where they'd said their farewells to him over a year ago. It was Samantha's idea, so that Grandpa Nick would be a symbolic guest at their wedding, well at least his standing meal of veal scampi. When they got home that night, they were elated, tired, and married.

"Boy am I ever glad that _The Little Chapel in the Woods_ was able to squeeze us in!" Tony scooped his new bride into his arms and carried her over the threshold.

"On a Saturday, no less," Angela replied, breathless from excitement and too many kisses. She saw Tony's face moving toward hers yet again, and tilted her head back to receive his mouth on hers.

"So, Mrs. Micelli, what do you propose we do now?"

"Well you could wait until we've left the room before discussing your wedding night," Mona teased them. While genuinely shocked by the turn of events following Tony and Angela's trip to Rio, she was also delighted. Learning that Paolo Duro had drugged and tried to drown her daughter in an attempt to steal the Bower Agency had been almost unbearable to hear. Quick retorts and witty comebacks had failed her, and she'd hugged her daughter instead, remembering her as the small child she'd been. She would forever be grateful to Tony for coming to Angela's rescue. Their whirlwind romance and shotgun wedding also left her without words. Flummoxed and caught off guard, she watched them wed, the entire day, dreamlike and ephemeral. Yet here they were, married. She watched as Tony set Angela down on the floor and kissed her yet again.

"Mona's right. You two sure are kissing an awful lot," Sam complained. The twinkle in her eyes betrayed her words and she smiled at them. "_Smoochy, kissy, mwah, mwah_."

"Samantha," Tony warned.

"I'm kidding, Dad. You two are so cute. So, um, do you want us to leave you two alone? We could go out to a movie or something?"

"Oh, yeah, we didn't give tonight much thought, did we?" Angela blushed and took a reluctant step away from her sexy groom.

"The Fairfield Inn?" Tony asked, unable to think of a swankier place close by.

"No! I last went there with Geoffrey, and you were with … never mind."

"Who?" Mona, suddenly alert, sidled over to them.

"Never mind, Mother." Angela indicated to Jonathan with a quick nod of her head.

"Why don't you two stay at my apartment tonight? I'll stay with the kids." Mona leaned in and whispered, "There's a mirror on the ceiling, and a closetful of stimulating accessories you can try."

"Mother!" Angela hissed. Then, more loudly so everyone could hear, "Thank you for the offer. Tony and I will be delighted to spend our wedding night alone." She leaned in and whispered harshly into her mother's ear, "I wouldn't touch those _accessories_ with a ten foot pole. The ceiling, however, could be interesting." Satisfied that she'd shocked her mother at least as much as her mother had shocked her, she smiled and headed up the stairs. "I'm going to pack an overnight bag."

Mona followed Angela up the stairs before Tony could. "I only need a minute with her. Then, you can have her all night." Mona paused at Angela's bedroom door for a second, then let herself in. "Well Dear, it is your wedding night. We need to have a little talk." She sat on the edge of Angela's bed and patted the spot beside her.

"Mother, we had this talk before I married Michael. I'm not an ingénue virginal bride this time around."

"I'm not giving you a sex talk, Angela. God knows, I hope you know what you're doing by now. And if you don't, Tony is the kind of man who'll educate you."

Angela rolled her eyes and walked over to her dresser. She sorted through her lingerie and pulled something out. "What do you think?" She held a sheer pale pink negligee in the air. "It's from _Victoria's Secret_."

"Very nice, Dear. What were you doing with something so sexy?"

"Is that necessary, Mother? I'm not a nun."

"No, you're not. But you're still an innocent, Angela. You don't sleep around or take relationships lightly." Mona took a deep breath and watched her daughter select warm socks. She shook her head and smiled. "Do you have cold feet?"

"What?" The double entendre wasn't lost on Angela.

"Angela, I've known you a long time … your entire life, actually. You're not one to jump into things. As I said, you're an innocent, and a serious one at that. You didn't even make a list."

"What are you trying to say, Mother?" Angela's sharp tone startled both women.

"Angela, sit down." Mona made room for her daughter on the bed. "I'm checking in with you. Why the shotgun wedding?"

"Aren't you happy that I married him? You've always been scheming for us to get together. And we finally have."

"Yes, but you skipped a few steps along the way." Mona held out her hand and counted off on her fingers, "dating, becoming exclusive, spending a night away, well you're already living together, becoming engaged, planning a wedding…"

"We became engaged in Rio, after spending five years together, Mother. Five years!" Angela looked away from her mother, to hide the deep blush spreading over her face.

"Five platonic years, Angela. Unless, there's something I don't know about?"

Never able to lie to her Mother, Angela stood up and turned her back to her. "I can't be without him. And we didn't want to set a bad example for the children."

"You aren't without him—you two live together! Oh. You mean at night, don't you?"

Angela gave a slight nod of her head but avoided looking her mother in the eye. "Yes, at night."

"Hot damn, he must be good!"

"It's not like that, Mother. I need him. I can't sleep alone anymore." Angela wiped at a tear that was forming in her left eye and sniffled. "Anyway, I should get going."

"Oh no you don't. Angela, what happened in Brazil?" Mona stood and walked over to her daughter. She put a firm hand on her shoulder and turned her around. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Why? Why are you doing this? I was just about to enjoy my wedding night? I don't need an interrogation, and for you to bring it all up now." Angela's tears were flowing fast now. She swiped her eyes with her sleeve and tried to push past Mona.

"Because I'm your mother and I want to be sure that you didn't jump into this wedding for the wrong reasons, even if it is with the right man." Mona stared her daughter down, a trick she'd learned when Angela was a little girl. She could see her caving, dark eyes frantically searching for a way out. "You know you want to tell me. You'll feel better."

Angela took a deep breath and said, "I was having terrible nightmares after Paolo tried to drown me. So was Tony, and, and, we sought solace in each other. It's the only way we can sleep now."

"I see." Mona could tell that her daughter wasn't completely forthcoming but she didn't want to push her over the edge. Not on her wedding night. "I'm sorry, Angela. I'm so sorry for what you went through." She dabbed at her own tears and smiled. "You go. Go enjoy your wedding night." She leaned over to give Angela a hug, a tighter one than usual. Angela responded in kind and threw her arms around her mother, squeezing back like she used to when she was a child.

"I know you're looking out for me, Mother. But you don't have to worry. Tony is the best man I could ever have chosen. You were right about us, uh, the night his appendix burst."

"Oh? Do tell."

"When he told me he loved me, he meant it. It's also the night that I realized I loved him. We talked about it in Brazil."

"Aaaah, so you should have taken my advice all those years ago."

"Maybe we weren't ready yet. But now, we are. The wedding may be last minute, but our love is not. We've been in love for a long time. What we have is real. It's solid. I trust him, Mother."

Mona pulled out of the tight embrace and smiled at her daughter. "Then, it's all good. And it's a hell of a lot more than you ever had with Michael."

"So, do I have your blessing?"

"You always did, Angela. As far as you and Tony are concerned, I have no concerns. I was worried about you."

"I'll be alright. In fact, I'll be better than alright. I'm in love, and Paolo's bail was denied. Getting that phone call today was the icing on my wedding cake."

"One day, you're going to have to tell me all of it. But not tonight. Tonight, you go and enjoy your new husband."

* * *

"Well it ain't the Marriott, but it'll do," Tony declared. He looked around Mona's apartment, grateful that she'd kept it tidy. "I should put clean sheets on the bed, just in case, huh?" He sprinted up the stairs, eager to prepare the bedroom.

"Please do!" Angela headed into the small kitchen and peered into the fridge. "Here's the champagne Mother told us about. Would you like a glass?"

"Of course. Bring it upstairs."

Angela poured two glasses, then drank one down in three greedy gulps. The conversation with Mona had stirred up too many unpleasant memories and concerns. She refilled her glass and carried it upstairs, along with Tony's, then stood in the bedroom doorway, watching him as he changed the bed sheets. He was so sexy, even when performing the most mundane of tasks. She admired him as he lifted, tucked and straightened the linens, appreciating the strength and elegance of his movements. When he was done, she walked over to him and handed him the glass. "Shall we make a toast?"

Tony took the glass from her and clinked it with hers. "_Cin cin_. To the love of my life, my best friend, and now my wife. My wife! To you, Sweetheart." They locked eyes, and both took a sip.

"Tony, when I first met you, I … I had no idea how quickly you'd become such an important part of my life, or that we'd build a family together. I'm so thankful for you, for your friendship, your kindness, your strength and support, and for your love." Her voice broke with emotion, and she took another sip. "I love you."

"Hey, hey, I love you too. Come 'ere Sweetheart." Tony put his glass down and took Angela's from her hand. He placed it beside his own. "Are you okay?"

"Mother cornered me upstairs. She was concerned about our whirlwind romance."

"What? But Mona's always wanted us to get together."

"Oh don't worry, she's fine about my choice of husband. But she doesn't understand why we rushed it so much." She turned her face up to his. "Do you think we rushed into this for the wrong reasons?"

"If by _wrong reasons_, you mean that we love each other, want to be together forever, and are making up for lost time, then sure, we got married for the _wrong reasons_." He cupped her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. "I know why you're worried, but I want you to know that we were heading toward the altar no matter what. 'Cause we love each other, Ang."

"We do. Tony, when I think of all the years we could have been together, I don't think we're rushing. I don't want to waste any more time."

"Time is precious, Angela. Especially when it's almost taken away from you forever. God, if I'd lost you …" Tony's voice broke as he let the sentence trail off. He pulled Angela into his arms and held her tightly against him, like he never wanted to let her go, ever. "Time is so precious, Sweetheart. I want to spend it with you."

She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him, then gazed deeply into his eyes. "We are together, forever."

"Forever, Sweetheart, forever."

He undid the zipper at the back of her dress, letting the simple ivory gown fall to the floor in a silky heap. Her skin glowed through the matching lace bra and panties, and Tony was taken aback by how beautiful she was. "Wow, just wow." He placed his hands on either side of her hips and stroked her gentle curves, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, the velvety skin, and the feminine contours. Next, he undid the clasp of her bra and sent it flying across the room.

"I guess you wanted that out of the way," she giggled. "You know, I brought a negligee from _Victoria's Secret_."

"Are you kiddin'? I don't want you in more stuff, I want you out of it. Save the negligee for later on." He cast his eyes the length of her body and said in a gruff voice, "You're still wearin' too much."

"Oh?" Angela pushed at Tony's blazer and undid his tie. "You've got more on than I do." She began to undo the buttons of his shirt, but his hot, insistent mouth was upon hers, and it was all she could to hold onto him. Her legs went weak like they always did when he kissed her like that. She thought back to their steamy birthday kiss in the kitchen a few years earlier. Her legs had given out on her, completely. He had that power, to make her go limp in his arms and surrender to her passion. She'd never felt that with any other man, ever. She inched backward toward the bed and pulled him along, never stopping the kiss.

"Eager?" he murmured, before crushing his mouth onto hers again.

"Need the support … legs weak," she managed between breathless kisses. She lay down before him and forgot all about his half-buttoned shirt, for he was worshipping her breasts with his mouth, sucking and licking them with such devotion as to make her feel like an adored goddess. He caressed her entire body with long, teasing strokes, unable to fully satisfy his need for her. He paused for a moment to remove his clothing, all the while keeping his eyes on her, drinking in her beauty.

"That's better." Angela held onto his wrist and pulled him beside her. She scooted into him, both of them on their sides now, facing each other. With one hand, she tenderly cupped his face, then leaned in to give him a soft kiss. He continued stroking her with one hand, relishing the way her narrow waist flared out at her hip. His fingers dipped lower, beneath the elastic of her panties and he began to slide them down ever so slowly, but because of the way she was lying down, he couldn't get them past her hips. Instead of asking her to lie back, he slipped his fingers inside the lace and cupped her. His breath caught in his throat when he felt the warmth of her centre on his hand. Her breathing sped up, and she exhaled in shallow gasps. Mesmerised, he watched her eyes widen in surprise and pleasure as he teased her most sensitive spot, massaging and stroking her until she couldn't lie still. She thrust her pelvis against him, the panties now awkwardly trapped around her upper thighs, and his hand still inside.

"Tony," she moaned. "Tooooneeeee, oh my god, um, panties, in way, need off …"

But Tony had no intention of removing them just yet, for he enjoyed the sensation of having his hand trapped between the lacy material and her soft mound underneath. He slid his fingers inside of her, teasing the wetness out. Angela couldn't take it anymore, she flopped onto her back and parted her thighs. She heard the panties rip, but didn't care. "Get them off!"

Tony stared at the torn remnants of her lacy underwear and a small laugh escaped him. "Boy, you are eager. It's not often that a woman tears her own panties apart." He grabbed the tattered silk and laughed as it gave way like dandelion fluff. They went sailing across the room to join the discarded bra.

Angela gave a small giggle because watching her torn panties flying across the room was suddenly hilarious. Tony was flinging her panties. Tony. Her Tony. After so many years of secretly loving him, she couldn't believe that they were finally here, on their wedding night, lobbing her undergarments into the air. She started giggling and couldn't stop. The laughter released her tension, and her previous worries. She laughed and laughed and couldn't stop. "Those panties looked so funny," she said, choking back a giggle.

"Angela, you have a habit of laughing at the wrong moments, do you know that?" he teased her, laughing despite himself. The mischievous sparkle in her dark eyes ignited his passion for her even more.

"I'm sorry, Tony, but when they ripped, ha, ha, ha, and you flung them like that …" she trailed off helplessly, her words swallowed up by another fit of giggles.

Tony sat up and admired her, her complete ease with him, giggling naked on the bed, breasts jiggling with each spasm of laughter. At that moment, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. He kissed her open mouth and caught the tail end of her laugh against his lips. The taste of happiness.

"You're happy," he said.

"Yes. I'm so happy with you," she replied, serious again. She parted her thighs and drew him inside of her, losing herself to the myriad of erotic sensations. After making love, she beamed up at him, flushed and tousled. They remained joined, neither of them wanting to break apart.

"Well Mrs. Micelli, you said something about a _Victoria's Secret_ negligee?" Tony flashed her an impish grin.

"Why, do you want to lob it in the air as well?" she teased him, snuggling more deeply into him.

"Anything to make you happy, Sweetheart. Anything at all."


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Six Months Later**

Hot dust blew across the prison courtyard, gritty, sharp and maddening. Paolo Duro swore when it hit his face, then turned into the corner, avoiding the other prisoners as they exercised. Keeping a low profile was essential to his survival, he knew. He hadn't yet adjusted to the shock of a guilty verdict and life in prison. He kicked at the dirt and grumbled to himself about the spectacle of a trail he'd received. The public had already decided his fate, even before that circus of a biased trial had begun. Lucia Corado had been a well-loved Brazilian national, a beautiful girl full of promise, and a symbol to the poor that there was hope for them to rise above the favela's cruel cycle of poverty. Her murder trial turned the tide against Paolo Duro, for he'd snuffed out that young, promising life. The fact that he was rich, successful and corporate had only added fuel to the fire of hatred against him. During the trial, the prosecution painted him as a monster, one who flaunted labor laws, and exploited children in his sweatshop. Being trapped in prison with so many favela dwellers terrified him. He kept his head down, begged for isolation but was denied the request. There would be no special treatment for any of the prisoners, and he had to take his punishment same as everybody else. He cursed Angela Bower for the umpteenth time that day, muttering her name while he scratched at the courtyard enclosure. So focused was he on the feel of grimy metal beneath his fingernails, that he didn't hear the menacing footsteps approaching.

"How the mighty have fallen," a young man sneered, approaching. "Your money isn't doing you much good in here, is it?"

Paolo turned and glared at the other prisoner, then glanced away. He didn't want trouble, and had learned that keeping his mouth shut was worth more than any currency in this hellhole. This particular man had been circling, eyeing Paolo for some time now, observing him in the cafeteria, in the library, and following his every move. Until now, however, he'd never approached or spoken directly to him. Paolo swallowed hard and tried to assume his confident CEO stance, but was unable to hide his terror, for he could feel the other man's hot breath on his neck.

"What do you want?" Paolo said, gulping back the shriek that threatened to escape.

"Justice. I want justice." He fixed Paolo with unusually coloured eyes, clear hazel with orange flecks.

Paolo shrank back, gripping the fence behind him for support. He'd only ever seen that eye colour in one other face, gold with streaks of fire within. They'd hypnotised him, obsessed him. Lucia's eyes continued to stare him down, boiling with hatred. Paolo never saw the switchblade, only felt the agonising stab when it plunged into his belly.

"I want justice for my sister, you_ diabo_. Lucia was innocent. _Assassino_." Lucia Corado's brother twisted the knife, his broad back hiding his victim, and the blood that began to pool beside him. "I hope you rot in hell." Paolo Duro drew his last breath, vacant eyes locked in terror.

The prisoners said they saw nothing, and shrugged when questioned by apathetic guards. They turned a blind eye, secretly relieved that one of their own had finally been avenged.

* * *

**Six Months Later**

Angela Micelli adjusted her sore back and expanding belly behind her office desk. She had difficulty reaching her keyboard with the baby in the way. She stretched, and exclaimed in surprise at the hard kick from within. "One more month," she reassured herself. "Only one more month and I finally get to meet you little one. And I'll be able to fit behind my desk again." She smiled at her tummy and patted the spot where she'd felt the baby kick. Things were going so well at home. She and Tony were getting set to celebrate their one year anniversary. Had it been one year already? They were happy together, fully synched, their family life continuing as before with the added dimension of intimacy and romantic love. Tony had only one year of college remaining, and was on his way to becoming a teacher. In the meantime, he focused on his studies and ran the household. Angela sometimes wondered why they hadn't simply gotten together earlier, and why their roles had mattered so much to them. Nobody batted an eyelash at their marriage—their friends and neighbours had all seen it coming. So what if the high-powered ad exec was married to a college student who vacuumed the living room? He was also PTA president, former ballplayer, terrific parent and one hell of a committed student. What had they been worried about? Lost in her musings, she didn't hear the soft knock at her office door. Then Mother buzzed her phone.

"Esteban Duro is here to see you," she announced, her usual demeanor subdued.

"What? Oh, send him in." Angela stood up too abruptly. In her advanced state of pregnancy, the blood drained to her feet and she felt a bit woozy. She gripped the edge of her desk for support.

"Esteban … what brings you here?" she asked.

"I'm sorry that I didn't call first. But I needed to see you, to talk with you." The young man had changed—he possessed more self-confidence, spoke with assurance and no longer had the look of a cowered pup.

"Please, please sit down." Angela sat down as Esteban took the seat across from her. "How are you?"

"I am well. Oooooh, congratulations on your pregnancy. I did not know you were having a baby."

"Yes, Tony and I are very happy. Thank you. One more month to go."

"Hmmm, only one month, hmmm. I wonder if that's enough time."

"Enough time for what?"

"I want to give you back your commercial, Angela. After my father's, ahem, passing, I inherited _Duro Maio_. Except it isn't _Duro Maio_ any longer. I've renamed the company _Lucia's Luxo_."

"You want to hire me back?" Angela's eyebrows flew up in surprise.

"I've come to New York to ask you this in person, because I know how much you suffered at my father's hands. I am so sorry about that." Esteban looked down at his lap, still feeling the remnants of shame generated by his father's legacy.

"It's not your fault, Esteban. You and Tony saved me. You suffered at his hands too … and Lucia."

"That is why I am coming to you, Angela. My company is for her, in her honour. I want you to help me advertise it, make it renown. _Lucia's Luxo _is not _Duro Maio_. I don't make bathing suits anymore. My new company makes affordable clothes, costume jewellery and colourful accessories. Inexpensive trinkets for young girls, poor girls, so they can enjoy the feeling of luxury without the cost. I want your input, your ideas, and your direction to put me on the map."

"I … I don't know Esteban. I have to think about it. My baby is due next month, and I'll be taking time off work while Tony finishes school."

"Angela, please, it's for the foundation as well," Esteban pleaded.

"What foundation?"

"The _Lucia Corado Foundation_—it helps the young people in favelas. Through this foundation, I made significant changes to my father's factory. We are ensuring that the poor have proper access to education, sanitation, and medical care. We pay fair wages and obey labour laws. It is an excellent charity, and it is funded both by private donations and ten percent of the income earned by my company. I want to broaden its appeal, make it known worldwide. Can you do that?"

"Do you want me to do a commercial for the foundation, or for your company?" Angela tapped her pen on the desk, her brain already focused on strategy.

"One and the same. That is what I am saying. _Lucia's Luxe_ helps fund the foundation, and I want everybody to know that! It is important that they know that _Duro Maio_ is as dead as my father. Please, Angela."

Angela smiled at him and nodded in understanding, her dark eyes moist with emotion. "Yes, I think Lucia would have liked that. I'd very much like to help honour her memory, and I thank you for asking me." Angela put her hands on her belly and shrugged, "Can we do the work in New York? I can't travel in my condition."

"Yes, yes that is fine. Thank you, Angela. Thank you so, so much!"

* * *

**Three Months Later**

"Come on, Angela's commercial is about to air!" Tony called out to the kids. He turned the TV to the right channel and waited. "You said 7:58pm, right? On ABC? This is right, right?"

"Yes Tony. Shhhhh, sit down." Angela held her eight week old baby over her left shoulder and rubbed his back in an upward motion. "Oh good, he finally burped."

"No kiddin', I heard that," Tony chuckled. He looked over at his wife and son, feeling the deep satisfaction of a man who has everything, knows he is loved, and loves without reservation. "He takes after Mona, awwww."

"I'm here, I'm here," Mona prattled, leading the way with the children in tow. "OK, let's watch this commercial already."

They sat together on the couch, crowded in against each other as they usually did during movies, watching in rapt attention. Angela's commercial was simple, not only for the fact that she'd had to rush through it before Matthew's arrival, but also because its message was straightforward and eloquent, not needing embellishment.

First there were pictures of the favelas, the poverty, the Lego-like structures stacked precariously on the hilltops, children running, mothers calling, garbage strewn everywhere. This was followed by quick footage of Esteban's new factory before the camera panned to his charitable work in the favelas. The American version of the ad focused only on the charity, as _Lucia's Luxo_ remained a local Brazilian company for the time being. Angela thought it wise to introduce the company after the charity became more renown, giving Esteban a chance to grow his business. Once he became successful beyond Brazil (Angela had no doubt on that front), Americans would already associate the good of his charity with his commercial offerings. The Brazilian version of the ad would not air in the States. In that one, Angela positioned the new company as a compassionate, community changing force, with the well-loved Lucia at its heart.

"Oh Angela, that was such a beautiful commercial," gushed Sam. "I'll bet people will be really generous and help support Lucia's foundation."

"Thanks Sweetheart. I've never done an ad for a registered charity before, but I must say that it was very gratifying." She wanted to add that it had also been a tremendously healing experience, letting go of her hatred of Paolo through her work with his son.

"You did good, Ang, really good." Tony kissed her, then bent to kiss his son's dark, downy head. "See that Matty? Your mommy is real special, and smart too." Matty squeaked in response and closed his eyes again, falling asleep on Angela's shoulder.

"What a year we've had, huh?" Tony said.

"You can say that again—it's been a ride alright," Angela agreed.

"Last year, when you went to Brazil, I was so worried Angela. Things felt wrong, off somehow_" he trailed off unsure how to continue.

"You've mentioned that before, Tony. I never fully understood what you meant." Angela cocked her head, lost in thought.

"Doesn't matter anymore. Everything is just as it should be now. I mean, ever since I sang with Sinatra, I've known that everything is okay."

"Singing was Sinatra was better than okay!" Mona interjected.

"This whole year has been _better than okay_," Tony said. "I had a strange dream, but things turned out better than I thought they could have." He cast his gaze over his family, pausing at his wife and newborn son. "Things turned out better than I ever thought they could have," he repeated for good measure.


End file.
